Miss Niphredil Baggins, Adventuress
by Imladviel
Summary: My worst Mary-Sue ever. Read at your peril. I'm posting this because I need to know if there's ANYTHING good in this story at all. Comment, and be honest - I am not afraid of harsh critique. I wrote this many, many years ago.
1. Forewords

The Eternal Spark Trilogy

**I: Kindled Spirits**

_Nár Tinwen_

She is a voice in the Ainurin choir.

She is immortal, older than Arda.

Arien's youngest sister, Tinwen the Spark.

Through ten ages and ten names

Through the hearts of men

And mourning at their graves.

Darkness seems the darkest

When seen by eyes made of light.

_Red Lily_

She is a mortal, a hobbit maiden.

Grown like a flower

From the fertile earth of the Shire.

She is called Lily Maggot.

A Red Lily, red as blood.

A fragile flower, much desired.

Some fates are called worse than death.

**II: The Heritage**

_The comical tragedy and tragical comedy of Niphredil Baggins, Adventuress_

Niphredil, westborn, fireborn

Was given a bow, a prophecy

And treasure upon treasure:

Mithril mail, a speaking stone,

Elven blade, a phial that shone

- What shall she do, where will she go?

_The Bree Letters_

Eowyn, half-blooded

Taller than any hobbit woman

Yet not in form a full human

Meriadoc's young daughter

Bride of a Breelander

- Where can lovers find peace?

**III: The Heroes**

_Morgoth's Mercy_

The path of Valacirca

The road to perdition

The gates of Mordor stand open

The armies of Rhûn and Khand

Are gathering their forces

Elessar, the slaves beseech you!

Release us to freedom!

_The Morningstar_

"To fight this evil, all free peoples of Middle-Earth must unite in a Company Of Mixed Bloods.

The Green Wizard must fnd them and lead them, and in all they number seven.

Two princes there will be, the sons of Elessar and Bregalad.

Also, the Morningstar must join you.

The Morningstar you shall know by two hairless feet and two unmatching eyes.

The Morningstar must bear and wear the Heritage of Bilbo and the Gifts of Galadriel.

One more I see of the seven, the daughter of my flesh. The rest may fate lead to you." - Quetondo's Prophecy


	2. Pints and Other Measurements

This is my original intro message for the story. You be the judge.

–

Who is she? And what is she? She is, that I know, "of the Moon". She is a walker of the night; her pale skin must have avoided sunlight. Elf-friend, too, in a way. And she is a huntress. Not unlike Artemis, is she? - Barefooted, armed with a bow, dark curly hair. A thin pale girl. Wild. Her mother tongue is Telerin Quenya. Her fatherland is the Shire.

And that is all the good things that can be said of her, when you see her mess her life like any pretty little newyorker, or a country girl in Paris... Wine and men and the difficulty of saying no. When you see her grasp any temporary heat and throw away good, enduring warmth. When you hear her shameless confessions, see her helping others - one more good thing - but unable to help herself.

The moon waxes, the moon wanes.

So does this woman, this creature, and I hope you see she is no Mary Sue. I would hate to be her. - Yes, at the height of her pleasures I would hate to be her. Not because of any virtue - but because of the blessed circumstance of having met only gentlemen at moments when I would have accepted sinful company and only loathsome cretins when I might have succumbed to the allure of an apparent gentleman - have I avoided the path of Niphredil Baggins. It is a path I do not recommend for anyone. It is the path of a breaker of hearts. It is the path of a woman over proud, over sure of herself, who promises herself that this mistake will be the last one, and then errs once again. A woman who gets over her hangovers more quickly that would be good for her in the long run. A woman who walks away whistling from a man who feels he has been taken advantage of. A woman you might envy until you get to know her.

And if you are like me, dear reader, you get to know her intimately indeed. Offer her a drink, and she will share a memory. Offer to drink with her, and she will share more.

(And I call what I have written a book, because it sure is long enough.)

She earns many names. Some names of her companions also need explanation:

I have taken liberties in hobbit names: we shall meet the Brandybuck children Glorry and Ginny, whose real names are Glorfindel and Guinevere. Another inhabitant of Brandy Hall is Cathilda Brandybuck-Boffin, Kitty to everyone. Notice how my hobbits care not for trifle details: Merry's children are Eowyn and Eomer, but the real Eówyn always has her name properly spelled. Even worse spelling we find at the Maggot Residence: the young twins Galahad and Galadrella (Galahad from elven _Galadh_, tree,Galadrella an attempt to pronounce Galadriel.) More comprehensible, perhaps, is the name Samkin. I'm very grateful for Tolkien having already named all master Samwise's thirteen kids, by the way...

And the little cat Beru is named after Queen Beruthiel, of whom all we know is that she had cats.

One more explanation: this is an adult fic, and with some Legolas romance, but not movie-based at all. I've tried to keep him in character. He has short brown hair. He also has a charming smile. And he doesn't close his eyes when he kisses…

–

**One: Pints and other Measurements**

It was a busy night in the Prancing Pony, and Brandon Butterbur, the owner, found much work for the hobbit waiter, Marron. Young Marron was Buckland-born, but had for reasons he preferred not to speak of had decided to leave the Shire altogether and find a new life in Bree. The rumour had it he was a Brandybuck disowned by his family for falling in love with a first cousin. Anyhow, Marron was certainly no danger to anyone - that much was plain by his polite behaviour and his stature, which was short even for a hobbit. This night Marron had his hands full, so he failed to notice a customer in the farthest corner of the hobbit-sized tables. This was easy due to the stranger's grey cloak that seemed to merge with the shadows. At last the customer, no doubt frustrated, yelled for a pint of beer in a shrill voice. Almost at once Marron stood by his side.

'A pint, sir? Are you sure? A Breeland pint is over twice the size of a Shire pint, you know.'

'I know. But I'm not from the Shire. And I most certainly am not a 'sir', young man.'

The stranger pulled back the hood of the grey cloak and revealed her face. She was very pale but did not look otherwise ill; her hair was black and her eyes green. While the shape of her face and her round nose suggested she was a hobbit, not to mention her short height, she looked like no hobbit Marron had ever seen.

'Are you going to stare all night? I recall I ordered a pint.'

What could he do? He brought her a pint. She paid with a small silver coin.

'Hey! This is the new money! With King Aragorn's face and all!'

'So? Minas Anor is full of those - it's the old money that's getting rare.'

'You have been to Minas Tirith? - Anor I mean, I'm still not used to places changing names all of a sudden.'

'Don't you have some work to do or something?'

Marron chose to ignore the woman's irritated tone. He looked round. The room was almost empty - the company of dwarves that had kept such a noise earlier on had all retired to their rooms, most of the Breelanders had gone home, and only some solitary drinkers remained. No, there was no work to do at the moment.

'Tell you what, that pint is on me, and you tell me all about yourself.'

The woman grinned mischievously and took the coin back from his hand. Her hand was cool, and very soft. Her fingers were long, almost like an elf's.

'All right. But don't expect any additional favours - it takes more than one night's friendship to get to know me.'

The woman ignored Marron's stammered assurances that he had no questionable ambitions.

'My name is Niphredil, and I was born next door to Paradise. Next island, to be precise. Tol Eresseä. I was the only child on the island - the elves have no children there. My family has a smial named Underhill, very close to the western shore. Every evening my mother and father walked to the beach and watched the Sun set behind the Blessed Realm. Sometimes I went with them. I always felt very sad that I could never go to that beautiful land. All our friends were old and wise, and I felt very young and stupid. My family, now, I had nothing to complain about my family. Did I say who my father is? No? Let me tell you, my father is Frodo Baggins. Heard the name, huh? Many a free bottle of wine that I've earned just by a casual mention of that name. And my mother? No shame there, either. She is a Maia. Not a very important one, but an Ainu nonetheless, Tinwen sister of Arien. Then I had old Uncle Bilbo, may he rest in peace. I was a kid still when he passed away. I got very angry about it, almost built a raft and tried sailing to Aman to complain to the Valar for taking away our dear old Bilbo. Eönwë talked me out of it. One of the few folks I really looked up to. I mean, legendary people every day; Maiar, Elves, and the occasional mortal surrounded me. I sort of got used to them. Eönwë was different, and you know why? Because he was the only guy with a sword on his belt in the realm of peace. And because he taught me to use a bow. I was a bloodthirsty kid, always asking for stories about wars and battles - I get it from my mother's side, I think - she has some balrogs in the family. It certainly isn't from my father. I must have been something of a pain in his side when I kept on asking questions about the Ring. Anyhow, I was raised by stories, and stories are what brought me to Middle-Earth. I just could not remain in one place any longer. Since West was not an option, I set out for the East. For Adventure. I said my farewells, was given a load of useful gifts by my parents; 'Your inheritance', they said. This cloak is one of them. It comes from Lothlórien.'

Niphredil Baggins paused to raise the pint to her mouth. She drank deep, and smiled.

'Would you like to see a secret?' Her hand wandered to the laces that bound her shirt.

'Er...'

The maiden took this for a positive reply and opened the laces to reveal - not her bosom, but a coat of gleaming, pearl-white metal. She answered the disbelief in Marron's eyes - the eyes he had only pretended to avert chastely.

'Yep. Mithril. Worth about the same as all of Shire put together. Perhaps more, as the price of mithril keeps rising - but on the other hand, the estimation was never precise.'

'The Mighty Ones did not give me the use of a ship - for none was to sail east, ever again. Instead, they transformed me into a bird for the journey. I would not choose to be a seagull if I was given that choice today. Wonderful birds, steady flight and all, and a clamour some call pleasant as their song, but you would not believe what those accursed creatures eat!

Anyhow, I finally arrived to Middle-Earth, and chose to land in Osgiliath. I wanted to do some sightseeing, you could say. So I shed the shape of a gull and stood alone in moonlight among the ruins. Or so I thought. Then I heard a voice:

'Did you drop there from the sky or what?' I turned around to face the speaker - a man in green leather, with braided brown hair, beardless.

'Actually, I did.'

'Who are you and where are you from?'

I felt he would need persuading - he reminded me of my father's story about his meeting with Faramir and the Ithilien Rangers. I thought fast and put on an act, in what I thought was a very convincing Quenya with Numenorean accent.

'Uien Niphredil, uien wanwa.'* As I looked at him I realised my accent had sunk with Numenor.

'Excuse me, can you speak Westron?'

'Yes, sir.' I had been identified as a foreigner - now what?

'Good, because my High-Elven is not as good as I thought - I did not understand a word you said.'

'Pardon? Who are you, actually?'

'I think I asked first, young lady.'

'I'm probably older than you, young sir.' I was twenty-six and proud of it.

'Not very likely, unless you are in your second thousand.'

'What? But you are just a Gondorian!'

'Meaning you aren't? It would be impolite to repeat my question, but as a servant and friend to the King I need to know at least who allowed you to enter this country.'

'Well... I hoped to charm you without proof, but I do have a passport that I think a friend to the King would recognise.' I showed him this.

Marron did not understand. Niphredil had gestured vaguely at her neck.

'The... um, mail shirt?'

'No! He did not look as harmless as you.'

'Your cloak, then?'

'All cats are grey in the dark.' Niphredil lifted the ornament that clasped the mentioned garment.

'A beautiful brooch, miss.'

'The man at Osgiliath appreciated it for other reasons. It is the mallorn-leaf of Lórien.'

'You don't say...! But then - that cloak...?'

'The very same. Stupid of me to wear it in a place like this - it took me ages to get you notice me!'

Niphredil laughed and drank deep - she was now halfway done with the pint.

'The man stared at my "passport", then, to my complete surprise, he showed me a similar one on his neck.

'Who are you?' I asked, dim-witted as always.

'If you have a right to wear what you wear, you should know me.'

I thought a moment, but of course it was obvious - I had never seen either a human or a Sindarin elf, and now had mistaken one for the other.

'Legolas?'

He bowed most gracefully.

'Pleased to make your acquaintance, miss Niphredil...?'

'Niphredil Baggins, honoured to meet you.' I gave him my hand, and he kissed it.

'Baggins?' He seemed to measure me up. 'How is your father?'

'Fine, and happily married. Recovered. At peace. Must be worried for me a bit. But not half as much as my mother. Her name is Tinwen, by the way. Tinwen Híniel Cal-Urúnya Maialaurë El-Carnil Elai Hawkfeather Baggins. She's old as everything, and very pretty, and she loves him absolutely.'

'Surely not "old as everything"?'

'Oh, but she is! Older than you, certainly. She's a Maia, you see.'

'But that makes you...'

'I'm mortal. And not half as pretty as Lúthien. No magic powers, and I sing really badly. That makes me a Baggins, no more and no less, and with a pretty mother.'

'I have never seen Lúthien Tinúviel, so I cannot make a comparison, but I assure you you have your father's features and a beauty of your own.'

'Those were his words I swear it. A beauty of my own, by Anar!' Niphredil sipped the beer. Then she brought the pint down with a heavy thud, startling both Marron and a small dog that had tried to sleep under the table.

'Legolas took me to Ithilien, where we interrupted a party of elves and men in the woods. When I saw mortals I was surprised how different they were from elves. I was introduced to everyone and everyone was introduced to me, but I remember only Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn. He was no doubt a noble man, but at the time I only stared at his curly beard. She was very polite and it was the first time I saw a woman who was not ten times or more beautiful than me. Fair she was, but her short life was passing swiftly and her brightest youth was a memory only on her face. Yet she smiled and was at home among the fairer elves, and at once I wanted to be like her. Not Big, I mean, but so unselfconscious. She also told me of Meriadoc Brandybuck, as she had known him.

'She remembers Master Meriadoc?' Marron exclaimed.

'You know him?'

'Sure I do, he's my uncle.'

'Are you a Brandybuck? Here in Bree? Very nice to meet you!'

Niphredil reached her hand to him. Marron stared at it, thought a moment, clasped it, thought better, and kissed it.

'Marron Brandybuck at your service!'

Niphredil giggled and tried to cover her blush by emptying her pint.

'Would your service get me some wine?' she asked.

'Of course. Red, white, or apple?'

'Apple, and sweet, thank you.'

'Master Brandon, what is the sweetest apple wine we have?' Marron asked.

'That would be year 19, I think, the bottles labelled "late"'.

'We still have some of those?'

'Yes, but only the bigger bottles. I noticed your customer is a hobbit.'

'I'll ask her.'

'Her?' Brandon exclaimed, but Marron was gone already.

'Would you like a large bottle of our sweetest, or a smaller one of a more ordinary sort?'

'The large of course, I can take it with me tomorrow!'

'As you wish. It makes three silvers.'

'You won't give it as a gift?'

'I'm sorry, but I'm a poor hobbit only, and I should really ask three and a half, for it's first-rate.'

'I was joking. I'm sorry, Marron.'

Soon he brought the wine, and Niphredil refused to pay anything less that the full value. Marron made to leave, but Niphredil clasped his arm.

'Do sit down and drink with me!'

She poured for Marron in the one glass he'd brought, and for herself a generous measure in the emptied beer-pint. Then she raised the pint for a toast:

'This is for future good relations between Bagginses and Brandybucks!'

Niphredil was too tired to continue her tale, so Marron in turn informed her of recent and less recent events in the Shire. Somehow they emptied the entire bottle, and Niphredil found it harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

'Am I boring you?' Marron asked after she yawned the fourth time.

'No, it's my bedtime.' So saying she finished her wine, shook the bottle and saw it empty.

Niphredil then picked her bag and a long bow from the floor and asked if the room she had ordered before was prepared. Marron went to check, and came back with a lantern to show her the way.

'The only room for one we have is human-sized, hope you don't mind?'

'No, I will only be less likely to fall from the bed!'

She laughed, then suddenly stumbled and would have fallen had Marron not steadied her.

'I think you should take my arm, Miss Baggins. You are very tired.'

'Drunk, you mean!' Again she laughed, but took the offered arm and leaned on it heavily.

Marron helped her take off her cloak and hung it on the doorknob, because the hooks on the wall were too high for a hobbit.

Niphredil tried to climb into the bed and failed, because it was high as a table for her. Marron helped her up as if onto horseback.

'Marron?'

'Yes?'

'Come here.' A command.

'Er...'

'Don't be silly. I won't eat you alive. I just want to finish my story.'

'All right.' He climbed up and sat on the edge of the bed. Niphredil was under the blanket and her hair covered the pillow in a dark haze. Her eyes were closed.

'That night in Ithilien... I also drank too much. And I was... bothering him. Legolas, I mean. I even kissed him! I asked him to sit with me, and then I just clung to him! He didn't want to make a scene, so he endured me. And then I fell asleep with my head in his lap, and he sat there until morning. He was too nice to me, so polite, didn't want to wake me nor leave me. And when I woke up in the morning I had a terrible headache, and he brought me some athelas! Athelas, for a headache! I've been dependent of the herb ever since, I often get headache you see. I apologised to him and he said it was nothing, he was glad to help; I had been no trouble at all. I was still feeling miserable so he just held me in his arms and told me everything was fine, and he kissed my cheek and put a flower in my hair to make me smile, just to make me smile. We were alone; the others had gone sometime in the night.

'What you must think of me!' I managed to say at last.

'I think you are just plain wonderful. You enjoyed yourself last night; many people do now and then. In my father's court it is ordinary to drink like you did, I understand it. Also, you did not get angry or sad, so it was pleasant to be in your company.'

'Even for you?'

Then he stared at me with those large elf eyes. That was when I fell in love.

'Especially for me. Niphredil, it has been a long time since any maiden has so flattered me... don't cry!

I mean it! My sweet one! Can I hold you?' And he... he buried his head in my hair, and kissed my neck, and whispered my name in my ear. Then he kissed me, on the mouth, and held me very close, until I stopped crying...

Niphredil trembled, and Marron saw tears streaming from her eyes. He was at loss. Finally he gave her his hand to hold, and she grasped it violently. Suddenly she drew him upon her body.

'Hold me! I am so alone!'

'Miss Baggins, you should not...'

'Why not? I have no-one else!'

'But I do. I am sorry. I have a sweetheart in Buckland.'

'Oh! But could you just hold me, as if I were your sister, and your sister had a broken heart?'

So he lay down beside her and held her tenderly. Niphredil Baggins cried herself to sleep in the arms of a man she had just met, much as she had her first night in Middle-Earth.

When she slept - and not entirely without snoring - Marron crept out the room with the lantern. Brandon was waiting for him in the corridor.

'Well, well! At least you had the decency not to stay till morning! I would very much like this to remain a respectable inn.'

'Mr Butterbur, it's not what you think!'

'Indeed? You fill a woman's head with alcohol and follow her to bed! Did she resist much? Did you pay her wine, or did she perhaps pay you with it?'

'No! We only talked!'

'I disagree. I distinctly hear her ask you 'hold her'.'

'All right, and I did. With our clothes on and a blanket between.'

'Why would anyone bother with such nonsense, or believe it?'

'For things no big man can understand. For innocence and broken hearts, for friendship and for faithfulness.'

'All right, I let this be a warning. Never go into a customer's bed. Never drink a customer's wine when working. And never let our respectability be questioned. Or you will be fired and your relatives informed of all the details.'

'Yes, Mr Butterbur. No, Mr Butterbur. I promise, Mr Butterbur. My word of honour as a Maggot.'**

*'Uien Niphredil, uien wanwa.' means something like 'I am Niphedil, I am lost.' Let's pretend my bad Quenya is Numenorean Quenya, OK?

**Yes, he uses a false name. I am writing this the same time as 'The Bree Letters', where this and Marron's sweetheart get explained. I am also writing another letter-form story, and also having a block there. (Kohaku & Chihiro, anime based).


	3. Breakfast With Tears

Two: Breakfast with Tears

'Miss! Wake up! The landlord will have you pay extra if you stay all day! We should be cleaning the room already!'

The voice belonged to the maidservant, who was human. When she received no answer, she wondered if the customer had left without paying. She knocked once more, then entered. What she saw surprised her.

On the floor; the contents of a bag discarded while rummaging desperately and disorderly for some thing or other. On the chair; the waterbasin with some fresh-scented leaves floating in it. Leaning against the table, a bow as long as its owner was tall.

And on the bed, the owner of the bow and bag sitting, eyes closed, lost in a reverie. In her hands, some small object of glass. She seemed to be speaking to it:

'Dimmed, dimmed in my hands, lightless now.

I am unworthy!

No light for my darkness... dimmed, dimmed!

Beleth Elaiviel!'

Spellbound, the maid watched the hobbit lift a hand, a sword suddenly gleaming in it. It was the most wonderful sword she had ever seen, a work of art...

Too late the maid realised what the halfling was about to do; the shining blade went for its bearer's heart, the eyes suddenly jerked wide open -

But no blood came, only a jingle of metal. Something was in the way, maybe just a purse of coins in a pocket. The halfling dropped the blade and spoke a long string of unintelligible words. (Much later, when the maid was old, she would tell her grandchildren the strange customer had spoken elven swearwords, so malicious was her tone and so fair the sounds.)

'I did not give you permission to enter!'

'And nobody gave you permission to leave without paying, madam.'

'I'm sitting right here!'

'Sure you are, and trying to escape by means of a sword! What do you fear so much? A ball of glass? A hangover?'

'My heart is pierced already. I was just finishing what life had begun.'

'A broken heart, madam? I had one too last summer, but you know; it was mended before Yule.'

'Bring me breakfast. Give this gold piece to the landlord; I will stay until tomorrow. And send Mr Brandybuck here.'

'Who? I thought you came alone?'

'Marron, the waiter.'

'But his name is Maggot, madam. We have no one by the name of Brandybuck in the house.'

'I must have misunderstood something he said. You do have a Marron, don't you?'

'Marron Maggot, the waiter. I'll see if he is in.'

Marron arrived with the breakfast: toast, ham, apples, bacon, eggs, cheese, tea and milk.

'I'm supposed to eat all this?' Niphredil asked.

'Are you feeling ill?' Marron sounded worried.

'I will before I'm halfway through this. Hey, you would not happen to be hungry?'

Marron thought back: Brandon hadn't forbidden eating breakfast with customers.

'As a matter of fact, I am.' He sat down.

'Gladys told me something worrying.'

'Gladys is the maidservant?'

'Yes. She said you tried to... kill yourself. With a sword. Sting, unless I am much mistaken.'

'I did.'

'I would have blamed myself, you know. For making you remember.'

'Oh, no! Then I'm glad I live.'

Marron saw tears on her cheek.

'Why do you cry?'

'For shame.'

'What?'

'I am unworthy. I lied to you, or made a false impression. I did not leave Tol Eresseä entirely of my own will, I was almost banished.'

'Why?'

Niphredil sighed.

'When I turned twenty-five, my mother gave me a great gift: A necklace with six pearls. Each pearl held a charm; if I touched one, I would see myself in a mirror as the image of any one of my mother's six past shapes. And if I spoke the name of the shape, it would become mine for a week.

These were the shapes: Híniel, a child with red hair; Cal-Urúnya, a spirit of golden flame;

Maialaurë, the very twin of young Galadriel; El-Carnil, a wild hunter; Elai, a noble lady of the Noldor; Hawkfeather, a silver-haired mortal. And as soon as I was alone, I took one of the shapes - Cal-Urúnya, whom only one soul had ever seen, Cal-Urúnya, who had brought that soul, Sauron, to his knees.

In this shape I seduced the one I admired, the one my mother once loved. I seduced Eönwë and he was mine. He asked my name and I told him the Quenyan version of it - Nécadil. Myself as myself he had never loved, and did not when the week was over, when I suddenly came to him in my own shape with the ring he had given me in my finger.

'Where did you find that?' he asked.

'You gave it to me.'

'No, I gave it to Nécadil...' Then he realised the name was mine, and I saw a shadow fall upon his very being. Eyes, face, and stature all lost something of their glory.

'So it was all a lie.'

'But I love you!' I pleaded.

'True love cannot lie. You are a child, and a foolish child at that. Tell me, who put the charm and shape of a Maia upon you?'

'My mother, with these pearls.'

'So the shape was hers?'

'It was, once. Cal-Urúnya she named it.'

'A name Sauron gave her. "The blazing red flame". It was a shape she wove to reveal her full glory as a servant of Aulë. I wonder if the taint of Sauron still spoils that shape - was it before you took it, or after, that you decided to win my heart.'

'Before.'

'Then the taint is all yours. Tinwen's daughter, child of the Ringbearer, my student archer, you have disappointed me more than anyone ever, including your mother. Perhaps you will grow into a better direction, perhaps not, but you shall do it without my company. I will not come to Tol Eresseä as long as you live here. And I have authority to punish you, Niphredil. Give me the pearls.'

'With trembling hands I obeyed, and he took the pearls and they turned into smoke in his hand.

'Now, Ohtarcë, give me my ring. It was never meant for you.'

Ohtarcë was my student-name, "little warrior". It was the last time he spoke it, and I knew I must obey.

As the ring left my finger, I understood where I had erred. My love had been real, but untrue all the same.

And I saw what ring it was: Fanya the White, older than the Sun and Moon, yet this was one of the few times it was outside Valinor. Aulë himself had set the diamond in it, and my mother had worn it before the shadow fell on her path in the Summer of Arda. Eönwë had had it in his finger after that, every time he proposed to my mother. He had worn it while he cut off Morgoth's feet, and the black blood had stained it. He had worn it when he lifted high the two Silmarils, and their light had purified it.

'And I had worn it, unworthy.

'If I had known any sooner, I might have found some of the power that ring must have, but I had to give it back the moment I understood.

'No more words had Eönwë for me, and he departed. Later the same day, my parents wanted to speak to me. It seemed he had paid a visit to them. Actually, they did not say much. On the dining room table there was a parcel of fine cloth. Inside it I found this bow of mine, and the vine and arrows.

'What is this?' I asked.

To my surprise it was Quetondo who answered. He is a jewel-spirit, and usually spoke only to my mother. In every room of Underhill there is a special pedestal for him.

'You do not know? Silly girl, Ohtarcë, if you can't even guess!'

'Eönwë sent this?'

'He brought it', my father said.

I held up an arrow and gasped:

'This is made by ainurin hands!'

'Indeed. Last time a mortal held such an arrow was at Dagorlad, when the archers of Anarion ran out of arrows and picked up all they found, and no mortal has owned such a bow since Numenor fell. Name it, Ohtarcë.' Quetondo did not usually command anyone. This had to be special. Yet I resisted.

'How can I accept this? It ought to go to the east, and slay worthy enemies! Arien's blood! I don't think Beleg Cuthalion ever saw the like of this!'

'Arien's blood indeed. Name it, Sercë Arieno!'

'Enough names, Quetondo. Let her keep her own.' said my mother.

'I name you Cúlind, the Singing Bow.'

And I lifted it and it was mine. And so was the wanderlust, the thirst for the hunt, that accompany the servants of Oromë. For they had made my fair Cúlind, carved it from the branch of a deathless tree, strung it with a substance I cannot name, which has never broken or loosened, and remains taut even when wet. Look at these arrows - the red-feathered are for war, the green for hunting, the black for a warning. This was the gift of a teacher to his student.'

'What do you think of me now, Marron?'

'Legolas was right. You are just plain wonderful.'

'What do you mean?'

'You were taught by the greatest master of weapons that ever was. Your baggage seems to consist of treasure upon treasure. This room is full of the scent of athelas. The sun is your - what - aunt, is that not so? And still you worry about what I, a servant, think of you! If you cannot trust yourself, trust your fate.'

'Thank you.'

'Besides, I too have a confession to make. Everyone here thinks my name is Maggot. Master Meriadoc exiled me, because I am in love with his daughter. She is adopted, and her mother was named Maggot. Her grandmother is trying to help us.'

'What is her name?'

'Eowyn.'

'Eowyn. What is she like?'

'She has golden hair, golden eyes, and a golden heart. She is like a summer sunrise, like an autumn garden, like every dream I ever dreamed. Need I say I love her?'

'How could he?'

'Who? What?'

'Merry. I mean your Master Meriadoc. Deny you and Eowyn your true love.'

'It is not decent for a Brandybuck to marry a Brandybuck, says he.'

'What are you going to do?'

'Eowyn wants to escape, but I've told her I have no home to offer her. I have yet to convince the landlord to employ her and give us a room to ourselves.

'That simply won't do! The daughter of the Master of Buckland as a servant? And Merry never to see his error? Let's see...'

Niphredil picked from the floor a heavy pouch. She opened it and put something in Marron's hand. He looked at it, and gasped.

It was the largest gold coin he had ever seen, decorated on one side with the tree and crown of Elendil, on the other with the profile of Queen Arwen.

'You... I cannot...!' he stammered.

'It is my wedding gift to you. You are, after all, the only child of my second cousin! It should be enough to buy a small house. If you lived by yourselves you would have a reason to ask Mr Butterbur for a better pay, and perhaps Eowyn wouldn't have to work and she could take care of your little ones.'

'Really, this is too much.'

'Not for me it isn't. I have four more. And the mithril, the brooch, the sword, the bow... and some other things. There have been dragons poorer than Niphredil Baggins.'

'The phial of Galadriel?'

'Yes. Gladys saw it, then? The Lady gave me a light in dark places, and she said my road would be long and lonely.'

'Your road... you are on your way to the Shire?'

'I was. Now I'm on my way to Brandy Hall. Cousin Merry needs some... feminine advice.'

'Do you think he will listen to you?'

'Hmm... Sam Gamgee is the Mayor, you said?'

'Yes.'

He will listen to me, at least. And the Mayor does the weddings.'

'Thank you, Miss Baggins!'

'You're welcome. And please call me Niphredil.'


	4. Lady Lilywhite

Three: Lady Lilywhite

There was, these days, a gate on the Eastern Road where it entered the Shire; for King Aragorn had decreed that the 'Big People' were to stay away from the land of the Hobbits. Niphredil arrived at the gate late in the evening, when it was closed and the guards were resting inside their guardhouse.

'Hallo? Someone open this thing, please!' Nipherdil shouted as loud as she could.

A moment later a guard came, unarmed and alone.

'Who's there?'

'One tired hobbit!'

The guard stared at her between the bars of the gate. Suddenly he screamed and ran back indoors, shouting to his companions:

'It is her! The ghost of Lady Lilywhite!'

Soon a group of young guardsmen stared at her.

'I'm no ghost!'

'You must be,' said one of them, 'no ordinary woman would walk alone where you have just walked.'

'I'm not ordinary. I'm armed.'

'She looks just like they say: bright green eyes, pale face, tall and strong.'

'I don't even know who this Lady is!' Niphredil pleaded.

'Perhaps you have forgotten, being dead.'

'It would make sense. Her fate was so terrible she would like to forget it.'

Niphredil ran out of patience. She picked an arrow and shot it, between the bars of the gate, between two staring hobbits, right in the middle of the guardhouse door they had left swinging open.

'That is the Black Arrow of Valimar. It is a warning. Let me in, in the name of the Sun and Moon!'

'Who are you, if you are not Lilywhite?'

'My name is Niphredil, and I am homeless but not poor. I have come a long way to meet my relatives in the Shire.'

'Name your relatives.'

'The Master and the Thain.'

'They have no vagabonds in their families.'

'Of course, because vagabonds don't have a family. But what say you of Hildifons and Isengar Took, or, indeed, Bilbo Baggins? Related to he Master and the Thain, were they not?'

'And which of these do you claim your ancestor?'

'Stop teasing her! Let her come inside and give her some tea, poor child! First you call her a ghost, and then you demand to know her genealogy! You can see she's a hobbit and if she were an enemy that arrow wouldn't have hit mere wood!'

The speaker was an older guardsman, who had been silent until now. Obviously the youngsters respected him, for the gate was opened and Niphredil received at the guardhouse with many apologies and hot tea.

'So, what is this Lilywhite Lady you are so afraid of?'

'It's a bunch of nonsense and no more!' proclaimed the old hobbit, who had introduced himself Hob Hayward.

'Nay, she was a woman once!' And young Samkin Smallburrow began to tell what was obviously a popular story:

'I ain't saying no names, but there was a right big family, and Lily was the daughter's name. She was so fair men fought for the honour of dancing with her, and no man ever said no to her but one. And that one went far away and Lily waited for him to return. Now, this was the time when things went real bad in the Shire, with Lotho as Chief and Big Men stealing everything, and one of the Big Men done Lily and done her almost dead. And she was big with child and then the man who said her 'no' came back and soon things were better. And again all young men wanted Lily although she was with child, but now she said 'no' and then the one she loved finally loved her right back. And that man was Master Meriadoc. But Lily gave birth and then died, and when she died she cursed every woman who had ever loved many lovers to die as she had died. And Master Meriadoc married Mistress Estella. And he buried her and put no name on the tombstone so that her curse would have no power, and her ghost made lilies grow on the grave so she would know it and have power. And she wanders in the wilderness, and if women have a hard job birthing they break the leaves of a lily and confess the names of all men they have loved.'

'What about her baby?' Niphredil asked.

'Why, they took her to live at Brandy Hall.'

'What is her name?'

'Eowyn.'

'Eowyn', Niphredil whispered. Poor girl, she thought. Separated from her lover and having such stories told about her mother.

'Bunch of nonsense, is what I say', old Hob commented.

'It is true this Lily once lived and lives no more, and also that a human did violence to her and she died giving birth to Eowyn, who is now Brandybuck. She did have green eyes but otherwise she did not resemble you. When she died she was engaged to Master Meriadoc. I don't think she cursed anyone, and I think she rests in peace. Her grave has no name because Meriadoc wanted to bury her at the Brandybuck graveyard, but his father told him not to write the name of Brandybuck on the stone. He refused to write anything in that case and planted the lilies instead.'

'Oh, but that is such a boring story!' exclaimed Samkin.

'On the contrary. I think I learned something very important about my cousin Merry.' Niphredil said.

'He is your cousin?' someone asked.

'Second cousin, as is the Thain Peregrin.'

'Who are you? I mean, whose daughter?' old Hob asked.

So she told them, and there was beer, and song, and old stories. Niphredil fell asleep in the middle of her description of Minas Anor, her head resting on her arms on the table. Samkin and one of his friends gently carried her into a spare bed.

Then they arranged her belongings on the chair next to it: the cloak, the sword, the bow and arrows, the heavy bag.

'How did she manage to carry all this from Bree to here?'

'From Minas Anor. She said she walked all the way, remember?'

'Whatever. I've never seen a girl like her.'

'Mad as a Baggins, as my dad would say.'

'I wouldn't.' Samkin touched her hair. 'I would say she is pretty as an elf.'

'What did she say her mother was?'

'A holy one. A sister of the Sun.'

'Far above your level, then, Samkin my fellow. As if she weren't already. Cousin of the Thain and Master!'

'Hush, don't wake her.'


	5. Dreams and Wakings

Four: Dreams and Wakings

It was Samkin's turn at night duty. He didn't have to stand out at the gate, just to be awake and sit beside the window. There was a lantern at the gate and no light in the guardhouse, so he would see if someone, or some animal, came.

Everyone else slept in the bigger room. He thought about the woman sleeping among the men tonight. No one would disturb her, or threaten her honour. This was the Shire and they were hobbits.

Suddenly he heard her voice:

'Ai! Laiqualassë meldanya!'*

He abandoned his post and went to check she was all right. She seemed to be still asleep, but restless, speaking in her dreams, repeating words of an elven tongue. Many others had also woken, and stood staring at the sleeping maiden.

Someone had lighted a candle.

'Hey, Samkin! You should be guardin'!'

'Go and guard yourself if you want to!'

'Meldanya? Mana rávë?**... Oh, it was a dream... did I shout?' She was awake.

'One could say so.'

'Was it a nightmare?'

'Well, sort of. I'm fine and not scared, if that's what worries you. Go to bed and kill that -sercëa- candle!' ***

Later, when Samkin had returned to the watch-window, he heard soft footsteps approach. It was Niphredil, with a blanket on her shoulders.

'I can't get to sleep again. I try to catch the dream and it escapes.'

Samkin rose to offer her a chair.

'Thanks. By the way, did I shout words?'

'Yes.'

'Oh, dear.'

In the dim light he could not be sure, but Niphredil seemed to blush.

'Don't worry. Nobody understood it. You spoke elvish.'

'I did? Can you remember what did it sound like?'

'You spoke something like a name many times - Meldania?'

'It is no name. Anything else?'

'Something... lai-kwa-lasse, perhaps. What does it mean?'

'I'm sorry, I can't tell. It is about a lost love. I can say that meldanya means...'

She stood up and stepped closer to him;

'...my beloved.' She kissed him, suddenly, on the mouth.

'We have only just met!' Samkin protested.

'And soon we will part, no doubt. Tonight, let us enjoy our youth!'

'It's the beer talking in you. You will regret this.'

'Am I not good enough for you?'

'You are too good.'

'I'm not a virgin, if that worries you.'

'...I should be keeping watch...'

Niphredil spread the blanket on the floor. Then she grabbed Samkin's arm and pulled him up from the chair. She began to open his breeches, but his hand stopped her and he undid the laces himself. Niphredil was also wearing breeches, and soon stepped out of them. Strangely, she kept her shirt on.

On the floor they shared passion without love, without even friendship. Samkin had never imagined his first time would be both so intense and violent, and so cold and emotionless. Niphredil certainly was no virgin, she knew how to make a man burn for her and to please her. She came with a gasp, and whispered once more: 'Meldanya.' As Samkin came inside her, he realised it was not him she meant.

Yet they kissed, after it, and exchanged sweet meaningless words. But each other's eyes they could no longer meet.

In the morning, Samkin was sulking, and Niphredil had a headache. She left towards Brandy Hall chewing a bit of athelas and humming to the tune of 'Man in the Moon stayed up too late'.

*'Ai! Laiqualassë meldanya!' = 'Oh! Greenleaf my beloved!'... ;-) (could not resist translating his name to Quenya...)

**'Meldanya? Mana rávë?' = 'My beloved? What is this noise?'

*** still playing with Quenya: sercëa = bloody...


	6. The Master and his Daughter

Five: The Master and his daughter

Cathilda Brandybuck-Boffin was brooming the flagstones in front of the main entrance of Brandy Hall, when a stranger stepped on them.

'Good morning!'

'Good morning and welcome! My name is Kitty, what is yours?'

'Niphredil. Is the Master home?'

'Yes, and eating breakfast. You can go in, go straight until the fifth door to the left, through the two halls, and the middle door is the one you want.'

'Some smial you have! I'll try to find my way, although a map would be useful!'

Both women laughed.

She found Meriadoc with his son, daughter and wife. Estella looked very small among these three unusually tall hobbits.

'Greetings, and good morning!'

'Who are you?' Merry asked.

'A long-lost cousin! My name is Niphredil Baggins, and I'm the daughter of Frodo Baggins.'

Merry stood up and stared at her.

'So you are! You have the Baggins nose and the tookish face and the hair of a Brandybuck!'

They embraced warmly.

'You must tell me everything. How is he?'

Once again Niphredil told her story, once again she left many things outside it, and even lied that all the servants at the Prancing Pony had been human.

'This is my wife, Estella, and here are our children, Eowyn and Eomer.'

'Nice to meet you.'

What followed was a long account of events in the Shire, and Niphredil had to pretend she had only heard a word or two from the guards.

After everyone had finished their breakfast, Merry walked Niphredil around the Hall, introducing her to the rooms her father had spent many years of his childhood in. They finished the tour in his study, where he showed her a book of herbal lore he was in the process of writing. Then he told her the tragic story of Lily, and Niphredil informed him of the incorrect ghost-story version the guards had told her, mentioning also that old Hob had known the true one.

'I also have a lost love behind me, although he still lives.'

'Can I ask who is this?'

'You know him; it is Legolas, son of Thranduil.'

'So that was the light I saw in your eyes every time you spoke his name.'

Niphredil nodded.

'Why do you call your love lost?'

'It is my fault. I did not take him seriously, and I betrayed him.'

'Betrayed? How?'

'I had been almost a month in king Elessar's court, and although Legolas visited us often, he spent almost as much time in Ithilien, restoring the woods. In the court I had become a companion to the Queen, who wanted to hear everything I could tell about Tol Eresseä. The elves had given many messages for me to deliver her. Queen Arwen dressed me in the finest garb of a lady-in-waiting and had me seated beside her at every meal. One would think any beauty I might have would be always in her shadow, but it happened so that men who stared with hopeless longing at their queen, saw, when they averted their eyes, those women who sat near her. One of these men was bold enough to approach me; he was no man, actually, but the dwarf Nár son of Bárin. He was young in the years of his people, and his appearance appealed to me. He was kind to me, and I think he loved me. And my heart was twisted and turned to face two ways at once, undeciding, and I took the jewels Nár gave me and Legolas thought they were from the queen. And finally I took him, in the body, I let him have me and hold me. I gave him more than Legolas had ever dared to ask me. This was my betrayal. Later, I sent Nár away and broke his heart, and I confessed to Legolas. I confessed him other things, too, dark things of my past that I cannot tell even to you. He could love me no longer.'

'I see. Your secrets are safe with me. I only hope you have learned your lesson.'

'Wish I had. But I just can't say no to a handsome face, and my body whispers to me 'what is one more time?''

'You mean - there have been others?'

'Yes, loveless in loneliness. A man at Rohan, an elf in Rivendell, a hobbit - last night.'

Merry shuddered.

'You shouldn't be so - outspoken. Not to mention so - open for anyone to - use you. I don't think you really want to be like that. How did you become what you are, loveless in loneliness?'

'At Tol Eresseä.' She told him how she had seduced Eönwë.

'Are you collecting races or what? All you lack is an orc and a troll!'

'Merry!'

'Tell me, who was the hobbit, last night?'

'You won't tell anyone?'

'I'm good at keeping secrets.' Merry felt he was younger again, talking to Pippin. Or Lily at her worst.

'Samkin Smallburrows.'

'At the guardhouse?'

'Yes.'

'At a guardhouse full of sleeping hobbits and someone always on duty?'

'Er - he was on duty.'

'Water-Lily, you're hopeless.'

'What did you just call me?'

'Sorry, did I say Lily?'

'Water-Lily.'

'Oh. I called her that, once. But she wasn't half as silly as you are.'

'Thanks, cousin.'

'Even Pippin was never as silly as you are, and I thought he was my most thick-headed cousin.'

'Really?'

'But you're still my cousin, and if you want, you can stay at Brandy Hall. Just don't break anyone's marriage.'

'I'd never touch another's man.'

'Good. Also, my son is only twenty-two, which is too young.'

'Twenty-two? He looks ten years older!'

'Good thing I told you, huh?'

'Yes.'

'Will you stay?'

'For the time being.'

'You can have Frodo's old room, it's been a sort of guestroom.'

'Thank you.'

'Now that you have told me your troubles, I would like to share one of mine. My daughter, Eowyn, is in love with her cousin.'

'One of the Maggot boys?'

'No, a Brandybuck cousin, my brother's son Marron. I sent him away and he went somewhere near Bree, but kept sending letters for months after. They had been best friends as kids and Eowyn took it hard, but it was only her first love.'

'How can you say 'only'? Your first love was Lily!'

'Let me tell you something. Yes, Lily was my first love, and also the first love of a couple of Tooks and one or two others. All of us now happily married.'

'All right. But why did you send him away? Eowyn is adopted, after all.'

'If Brandybucks start to marry each other, how to put an end to it?'

'You could cancel Eowyn's adoption.'

'Never! Lily asked me with her last words to raise her!'

'Then you could have young Marron adopted into another family...'

'He is too old for that.'

'Is there a law about it?'

'Not exactly... besides, he is my brother's only child. He would not give him away.'

'But he let you send him away?'

'He agreed they should not marry.'

'I could talk to Eowyn, woman to woman. Maybe I could learn the nature of her love.'

'All right. You are welcome to try. But don't give her any indecent ideas.'

'Wouldn't dream of it.'

Eowyn was baby-sitting two of her smaller cousins, Ginny and Glorry (whose real names were Guinevere and Glorfindel). She was thinking about the visitor.

The woman had come in the morning, clad in breeches like a man, carrying a threateningly large bow on her shoulder.

She had introduced herself Niphredil Baggins, and Eowyn's father had recognized the family semblance.

But Eowyn was not thinking about Frodo Baggins, nor the wonders of the South, nor anything else the visitor had told them about. She was thinking: She came trough Bree and said there was no hobbit waiter at the Pony.

As if on cue, Niphredil entered Eowyn's room.

'Can you send these two to their mother? I'd like to talk.'

'I can talk too!' said Ginny.

'I bet you can, dearie. That's exactly why you have to go - we will talk secrets.'

'Glorry, take Ginny and go find your aunt Estella.'

After the kids had gone, Niphredil smiled warmly and sat on Eowyn's bed.

'I have met Éowyn of Rohan, and I must say there is a semblance. She is older, of course.'

Eowyn found no words.

'I have something for you.'

Niphredil fished an envelope from her pocket.

'Someone sent you a letter in Bree, and he had me promise I will give it only to you or to anyone of the Maggot family to deliver to their matron.'

Eowyn took the envelope, but did not open it.

'Do you want to read it alone?'

'Can I trust you?'

'You can trust me after the sun goes dark and the moon falls, you can trust me after the sea has dried and the land twisted.'

Eowyn read the letter:

"August the third, 29 Fourth Age

Prancing Pony Inn

Dearest Eowyn,

In my last letter I told you to follow your grandmother's suggestion and start the preparations for our home.

Things have changed - for the better. The woman bringing this letter, Niphredil Baggins, had given us a wedding gift beforehand - and I have used it to buy a hobbit-house for us. The previous owner has already moved away, leaving some furniture that was too heavy to be moved, so that we have a featherbed, a large table with bolted-in benches, a wardrobe and one rather worn armchair. We still need the small bits and pieces, although I will buy some as soon as I decide what is most necessary. You may come as soon as you can, and if escape is still the plan, Niphredil will help you. But it seems she has other plans, too. Thank her once more for me!

Yours, Marron"

'Oh, thank you! We don't even know you!'

'I think the Queen Arwen would be glad to hear her money so well used, and I think your mother would want you happily married, may decency rot if need be!'

Eowyn hugged Niphredil tight.

'Your father, by the way, thinks I'm trying to persuade you change your mind. What shall I tell him?'

'Tell him... hmm, that I cannot think of anyone else to marry me, and does he want me to become an old maid?'

'Very good. All true, yet preparing for the escape - if need be.'

'These other plans of yours...'

'I suggested some to Merry, but he refused to accept any, not outright at least. What does your mother think?'

'Estella? I never call her "mother". She is the worst. I used to love her, but now I can't.'

'I think I could use the Mayor against Merry. Would it work?'

'Oh, Master Samwise would never dare to disagree with his old friend!'

'Not even if Frodo's daughter asked him?'

'Not even then, I fear.'

'I still think I should try. Does he know about this business?'

'No.'

'That will be an advantage. What about the Thain?'

'He knows, and agrees with my father.'

'Do you have any friends in Hobbiton?'

'One, the Mayor's eldest daughter. Elanor. She visited me recently, but I did not dare tell her much.'

'Elanor. Star of the Sun. Elanor, flower of Lórien. Elanor, named by my father...'

'Elanor.'

Eowyn gasped: she had heard a male voice, but there was no-one else in the room.

The voice continued:

'Elanor the Fair, who outshines Niphredil of the Bow. Who holds both your fates in her hands. One change you only have, Shadow of Lúthien.'

'Quetondo? You speak to me again!'

Niphredil opened a pouch on her belt and took out a glistening white jewel. It seemed to Eowyn that the smokelike patterns inside it moved, but she thought it must be a trick of the light.

'Eowyn, meet Quetondo. He is a jewel-spirit, from beneath mountains that no longer are.'

Eowyn found herself greeting a stone, and got a polite but strange reply:

'Well met, daughter of sorrow, mother of the morningstar!'

'What?'

'I think we have heard a prophecy.' Niphredil grinned.

'Quetondo likes to give new names to people. I think my mother taught him that. He's never called me Shadow of Lúthien before.'

They talked of many things, after that, until the dinner bell was heard.


	7. The Home on the Hill

Six: The Home on the Hill

It was an August and a sunny one, good for harvest, good for the heart.

Elanor and her fiancee, Fastred, sat beneath the canopy of apple-tree branches in the garden of Bag End.

Fastred was eating apples. Every time he found a very sweet one, he gave it to Elanor.

Suddenly they heard the thudding of small footsteps and Elanor's smallest sister Ruby, aged twelve, ran towards them.

Elanor caught her in her arms.

'Ellie-sis! There's a stranger at the gate!'

Soon the little girl was followed by the bigger boys: Frodo, Merry and Pippin. None of them looked anything like their namesakes; Frodo, aged 27, had sandy brown hair and a roundish face; Merry, aged 23, was very short, and Pippin, who was 21, had almost black hair.

'And it ain't just any stranger, he has a war-bow.' Merry panted.

'Is that so? Has anyone done as much as asked him in?' Elanor wanted to know.

'Well, no.' Frodo admitted. 'Mom and Dad are still visiting the Cottons.'

'Then let's go. I'm sure it's just some Took on a hunting-trip.' Elanor said, and they all went to the gate.

The stranger was no Took, that was obvious by his night-black hair, nor anyone else they might know.

He had the longest bow they had ever seen, a cloak over his clothes despite the warm weather, and no smile on his face.

'Well! For a moment I thought the little lass was home alone!'

'I'm sorry for the delay. Our parents are not home right now.' Elanor curtsied.

'Are you allowed to talk to strangers when your parents are away?'

'Of course, and you can come in, too. My name is Elanor, this is Fastred of Greenholm, my brothers Frodo, Merry and Pippin,' the youths bowed as they were mentioned, 'and our little Ruby. Oh, and here come the rest of the lot,' she added, when no less than eight children came from the house and garden. She introduced two golden-haired lasses, Goldilocks and Daisy, a slim maiden almost her own age, Rose, who seemed to be herding the little ones: Primrose, Bilbo, Robin and Tolman. A copper-haired lad with strawberry jam all over his face was identified Hamfast and given an angry look by Rose, who said his name ought to be 'pantry-burglar'.

'Thirteen. I'm impressed. You can call me Niphredil.'

Now she smiled, and her face seemed to change, and they saw their visitor was a young woman, although clad in breeches.

Young Frodo opened the gate for her, and Merry whispered a bit too loud in Pippin's ear:

'Big brother will be no company for us today. Look at his eyes!'

Frodo Gardner stared after Niphredil, still holding the gate as if he had forgotten how to close it.

'The road goes ever on and on / Out from the door where it began.' Niphredil spoke the words as she entered the hall of Bag End.

'Hey! That is one of old Bilbo's!' Elanor said.

'Yes. May he rest in peace under a white stone at eastern Eresseä among the graves of the Teleri slain by Fëanor's kin long ago at Alqualonde!'

'You speak as if you had seen his grave.'

'I closed the lid of his coffin. I was there. I knew him.'

'Who are you?'

She curtsied with a gracious flourish she had learned at Elessar's court.

'Niphredil Baggins, at your service, your and your family's.'

They all stared at her. It was Frodo who spoke first:

'B-Baggins?'

'Yes. Daughter of Frodo Baggins.'

'We owe your family all we have. Be our guest, and you will see Bag End is still a home of hospitality.'

At Elanor's words, Frodo helped Niphredil take off her vine of arrows, and Fastred took her bow. Merry and Pippin carried her bag together and Goldilocks showed her the way to the better guest-room.

After she had arranged her things and washed her face, Elanor served tea in the garden. Rose and Frodo sat with them, and their younger siblings had their tea in the kitchen, supervised by Goldilocks. Fastred had gone to the Cottons to tell Master Samwise the news about the visitor.

Niphredil learned more about life in the Shire as she listened to Rose and Elanor tell of family events and village gossip. It turned out Elanor alone had recently accompanied their parents on a visit to Gondor, while Rose had taken care of the entire household back home. Both girls had matured by the experiences – to different directions. Elanor knew the great world, Rose loved the homestead.

Young Frodo was strangely silent. Suddenly he asked:

'What year you were born in, Miss Baggins?'

'The second of the Fourth Age.'

'Really? That's the same year I was born in. How come you have left home so young?'

'Exactly because I was young, and everyone around me was old.'

She then told some of her adventures. Elanor mentioned she, too, was a maid of honour to Queen Arwen, and told of the King's visit to the North.

Suddenly a hearty voice greeted them; Master Samwise had arrived. He was a stout hobbit with a touch of silver in his curls. Rosie was there as well, in her best green dress and with her sweetest smile.

Niphredil stood up and curtsied, as Elanor introduced her.

'How do you do, master Mayor?'

'Never the better, now that you are here. Please, call me Sam.'

Niphredil could tell he wanted news from Tol Eresseä, and she had plenty. She also had a letter from Frodo to his faithful friend, but no one except Sam ever learned what was written there.

'I hear my children have already seen to your lodgings. Is there anything else I can do for you?'

'Actually, there is. On my way here I met a maiden who has been separated from her sweetheart. They love each other, but their parents won't allow them to marry.'

'Why not?'

'Because one of her family has never married with one of his family.'

'So they are not cousins or anything like that?'

'No. There is no such obstacle.'

'If they are of age, I can wed them to each other.'

'She is thirty, and he is twenty-nine, but no longer lives with his parents.'

'When he turns thirty, I can wed them, but unless they wait three more years, their parents may cancel their right of heritage.'

'Do you promise you will do this, no matter what you think of their families?'

'I promise. Unless - unless they are not hobbits of the Shire, in which case I have no authority over them.'

'They are of Shire families.'

'Who are they?' Rosie asked.

'Eowyn and Marron Brandybuck.'

'But they are first cousins!' Sam exclaimed.

'You know they are not.'

'Rosie, tell her.'

'Come with me, Miss Baggins.'

Niphredil followed her to a bench separated from the rest of the garden by thick evergreens.

'I wish I would not have to tell you what may not be more than an ugly rumour.'

'Do you know how long a hobbit woman usually bears a child?'

'Seven months. At least my mother bore me that long.'

'Yes. Now, Eowyn was born the nineteenth of May. Count back seven months.'

'November.'

'Yes. Now, everyone knows Lily was already heavy with child in November. But in the winter no-one except her own family saw her. Humans, I've heard, bear their children nine months. And Lily did indeed say Lang raped her in September. So this is what I've heard, and I hope you will not repeat it to anyone. What if Lily had a miscarriage, but somehow got pregnant again? Who in this case is the father of Eowyn? She is a tall girl, but not as tall as Meriadoc Brandybuck.'

'You know yourself that is extremely unlikely. My cousin is no such man. Why did you tell me this?'

'Because some want to believe it. People who say Eowyn would be a fine match for Faramir Took. I don't believe any of it, but the young couple might be treated unfairly.'

'They are going to live in Bree.'

'Bree? You know, that might work. They have to be wedded here, but after that...'

So the two women started planning the life of Eowyn and Marron, and Niphredil wrote both of them a letter.


	8. The Mallorn in the Moonlight

Seven: The Mallorn in the Moonlight

Niphredil was reading the Red Book in her bedroom, with a candle on the table. The story, although familiar, had captured her and she did not know it was already midnight.

Suddenly something rapped against the window, and she startled. There was someone out there, a dark shape in the moonlight.

Niphredil took Sting from a hook on the wall and drew it. She was almost surprised it did not glow a warning light. Then she laughed at her own stupidity. She opened the window.

'Who's there?'

'Would you like to come for a walk?' The voice was that of Frodo Gardner.

'All right, but why didn't you use the door like decent people?'

'Because my dad would say it ain't decent to go for a walk in the middle of the night! Can you climb out trough the window?'

'It's that late already? Maybe I shouldn't come...'

But the look on his face was so disappointed Niphredil immediately took her cloak and climbed on the table and out the window.

'Don't worry, I just want you to see something. The moon is almost full.'

They walked up the hill to the Party Field, and there Niphredil saw a marvellous sight.

The Mallorn was tall and thick-limbed, and its silver bark shone in the moonlight, and the dew on the leaves was like pearls.

'Oh! It is lovely!'

'Let's go closer.' Frodo took her hand.

Soon they stood under the tree. The moonlight shone trough the leaves, making a green shade below the branches. There Frodo spread his cloak and they sat down.

'I often come here at night. This is the first time I'm not alone.'

'My father is like that, too.'

'Really? I've never thought I'm anything like him.'

'You don't look like him, but looks aren't everything.'

'Miss Baggins...'

'Call me Niphredil.'

'Niphredil. How long do you plan to stay here?'

'Where? Under this tree, at Bag End, or the Shire in general?'

'I was thinking, at Bag End.'

'Hmm. Until Marron Brandybuck's thirtieth birthday, at least.'

'Are you invited to a party?'

'I hope to be invited to his wedding. But I don't know the day yet.'

'I don't even know the name of his bride.'

'You will learn in good time.'

'Er - it's not yourself, surely?'

'No!' Niphredil laughed.

'Good. I mean, er, nothing. Sorry.'

Niphredil suddenly realised she was feeling as if she were drunk, but she hadn't touched the wine at the supper table.

'Aren't you cold without your cloak?' she asked Frodo.

'Maybe a bit.'

She wrapped her own cloak around them both and her hand around his shoulders.

'Your hair smells good.' Frodo whispered.

'You mean it's in your face? Sorry!' Niphredil giggled.

She could feel his breath getting heavier. Suddenly he embraced her and pulled her to sit in his lap.

'You are the most beautiful maiden I ever saw. You are more beautiful than Queen Arwen.'

Niphredil kissed him, first on his cheek, then on the mouth. She turned her body to embrace him.

'I feel strange.' Frodo said.

'You have never made love?'

'Never!'

'Want to?'

'We should not...'

'I know you want to.'

'I love you', Frodo admitted, 'and I want to marry you. Will you marry me, Niphredil Baggins?'

'Oh! I... I don't know.'

'I thought so. You will leave me.'

'I'm not ready yet to marry anyone.'

'Then you shouldn't be ready for that other thing, either. What if you get pregnant?'

'It's my problem. I haven't, so far.'

'You mean...'

'Y-yes.' Suddenly Niphredil was sobbing. Frodo patted her back, gently.

'There, there. You don't have to tell me who it was. I love you, you know.'

'Y-you are s-so nice.'

They walked back into the garden. Niphredil's window was still open. Before she climbed in, she kissed Frodo good night. Frodo helped her step on the windowsill.

When she descended from the table, a lantern was uncovered in the room.

'Mistress Rosie!'

'I came to see you are not reading your eyes out, and what do I find? An empty room, an untouched bed, and a window open. And the same thing in my son's room. What have you two been up to?'

Frodo stood up; he had been hiding below the level of the window.

'Nothing, Mom! I took her to see the Mallorn in the moonlight.'

'Indeed? There are leaves in your hair, and your cloak is inside out.'

'Mrs Gardner, you have my word of honour he behaved perfectly decent.'

Niphredil suddenly stood straight, and there was a new tone of authority in her voice.

Rosie thought she saw Master Baggins, long ago in the Cotton home, answering to Gaffer Gamgee's question whether 'Sam has behaved hisself'. For the first time she noticed how much the girl resembled her father.

Rosie could only say:

'Well, at least he has done all he can to make things look strange. A mother is worried, you know?'

'I understand. But I don't think you will ever have to worry about Frodo. He is one of the most sensible people I've ever known.'


	9. Interlude: Longing

Eight: Interlude: Longing

'A wind came from the west

and brought me a butterfly.

A wind came from the south

and kept her close to me.

A wind came from the east

and blew her far away

A wind came from the north

and whispered in my ear:

'Is it best to live and never love,

or to love and never live again?'

'It is best to love and live,

to live, but never love again!'

'Hard words, my friend, and bitter.' Gimli son of Glóin reproached Legolas, who leaned on the railing of the Bridge of Osgiliath, facing the sea.

'They are only words. Words of the wind, that only the wind listens.'

'You did love her.'

'Love her? Yes. But her deeds I hate.'

'Although she knelt before you and confessed and begged your forgiveness?'

'She did not ask for my forgiveness. She asked for my understanding! She was full of explanations and lacked all shame and honour!'

'I see, then. You feared she would do it again?'

'I feared she had learned nothing.'

'Is that not the same thing?'

'No. I know she could be different, but first she has to do some serious thinking and choose her own way.'

'How do you know?'

Legolas was silent, then spoke softly.

'Her father trusted her. And her mother, the Maia. Eönwë gave her a bow and arrows.'

'A good bow, that one.' Gimli tried to change the subject.

'Indeed. The best one this side of the Ocean.'

'Really?'

'One day, in Ithilien, she challenged me to a shooting competition. Our target was a slice of wood with the rings made by years as its only marks. We put it on the other side of a field, but it turned out to be too easy: all our arrows hit the exact centre. We put it in the branches of a tree so that the leaves hid it, but it was still too easy. Finally Niphredil put it behind the trunk of the tree. I protested, and she laughed at me.

'My arrow hit the edge of the slice from above, and I thought it was the best anyone could do.'

'I suppose she scored.' Gimli interrupted.

'She did. Straight in the centre, and when she pulled the arrow out it had gone almost trough the thick slice. If the target had been a man hiding behind the tree, it would have killed him.'

'Impossible! I know arrows can be shot like you did, to go up and then directly down, and the wind can be used to make them turn in the air, but to kill a man behind a tree...'

'I know. Such a bow, with such arrows, could do wonders on a battlefield.'

'Or the archer would shoot himself accidentally.'

'Not that archer. Eönwë taught her.'

'There is a story I would like to tell you.' Gimli said.

'Go ahead.'

'Long ago, When Durin, the sixth, was the Lord of Khazad-dum, one day at the Western Gate there arrived a dwarf-woman, carrying nothing but a basket of berries. The gate was open and the guards assumed she had gone out before the changing of guards and was now returning, although they did not know her. She walked in, sat on a bench under a lantern in the city, and offered her berries to all passing children. She did not speak a word. Evening came and someone noticed she was still there. She was offered a place to stay. It turned out nobody knew her. She learned the dwarven tongue easily, but never told her origin. She became a servant at the king's kitchen. The name she used was Dari. She had silvery hair and bright eyes. One day the king, who was a widower, noticed Dari and asked if she was married.

Dari replied:

'I am not, my lord, but I have sworn an oath to marry the man who breaks open this chain that binds my neck.'

She showed him a golden chain with a black stone. The chain looked frail, but the king could not break it, not with his hands, not with any tool. Neither could anyone else. Finally Dari asked to learn some smithcraft herself, and was allowed to. But she, too, failed to break her chain.

Years passed and the Balrog woke and slew the king. The warriors escaped, and saw Dari stand and defend the body of Durin. She took the king's axe and hit the monster. The flames seemed not to burn her, but neither could she harm her opponent. The Balrog threw her into a wall, but she approached it again.

'It is not too late, brother, for you to choose true light again!' The dwarves do not understand this, but the words were heard and remembered. Dari raised her left hand and lo! In her finger shone a golden star. Suddenly she seemed to be glowing, and her hair was like fire, her clothes like clouds the sun shines trough. The dwarves knew the star on her finger; Glorharn, the gold-stone, mightiest of the seven rings. They had thought Durin had it, and she had not taken it from the body, so he must have given it to her while he lived. The Balrog attacked her and everyone else escaped during the battle. Durin's son Náin stayed near and listened. When there was silence, he went to have a look. It seemed the Balrog had killed Dari and taken Durin's body away. Náin lifted up Dari and carried her to safety. She woke when Náin took the ring from her finger. She said only:

'It is yours. I am sorry.' And then she walked away and was never seen again.

What do you think of this?'

'She called the Balrog her brother, and wore an unbreakable chain. Did you hear Niphredil tell of her mother?'

'Yes.'

'It must have been her. To think that she, too, was a ringbearer...'

'Very much like Gandalf.'

'One day of her life. Another, she was Elai and fought beside Gil-Galad. Before that, she was other things, with other names. Cal-Urúnya, bride of Sauron. Híniel, child older than mountains. Maialaurë, a mirrored image. El-Carnil, star of fate. Hawkfeather, the adventuress.'

'Do you think that is why her daughter is as she is?'

'Tinwen loved many, but never betrayed. No. Niphredil has but herself to blame.'


	10. Bride as White as Snow

Nine: Bride as White as Snow

It was a good harvest that year, a snug autumn in house and hole, and each and every hobbit looked forward to a bonny Yuletide indeed. Niphredil remained at Bag End until the beginning of December, when she suddenly announced she had an errand to Buckland.

During her stay she had become almost a part of the family - she told stories to the little ones, taught Merry and Pippin some archery, and even learned to bake with Rosie and Elanor. She bought fabrics and made herself some skirts and dresses, green as grass, yellow as the mallorn-leaves in November.

Frodo went with her, he did not want to be parted from her. Everyone knew he was in love with her, and since she allowed him to accompany her, it seemed she had feelings for him, too. Elanor was loath to let her brother go, and she warned him many times not to do anything he might regret later. Niphredil heard of this - Frodo kept no secrets from her - and asked Elanor the meaning of it.

'Baggins you may be, but you are young, and young of soul, and the spirit that is in you sleeps yet, you have danced too fast and lost your West and East - you are dangerous, that is the result, although you do not mean to be.' These were strange words from the mouth of a hobbit-maiden, but the wisdom in them was not lost from Niphredil. Indeed she saw a light in Elanor's innocent heart not unlike the light of sunset upon the Blessed Realm.

'I hear and I see. What you say is more true than you know. I have heard a prophecy that you shall outshine me, and you have. And I am not surprised - you are the daughter of Samwise Gamgee.'

'I don't know what came over me! I meant to say something else, but now I have forgotten it all. Tell me, friend of my heart, where did those words come from?'

'Many things there are unseen, and powers that walk from mind to mind. The courage in despair, the beauty and the wisdom in simplicity, who can say where they come from?'

As friends they parted, under a bleak December sky, and Niphredil, once again clad in breeches, shouldered her bow and her bag, which was heavier than before, and accompanied by the well-wishings of the smaller siblings of Elanor and Frodo, walked briskly down the hill, with Frodo on her side, and Elanor's eyes followed them all the way down.

The day after the following, having stayed the night at the Golden Perch, Niphredil and Frodo arrived at the Marish, the Maggot Farm to be precise. Eowyn was there, helping to prepare for Grandma Maggot's one hundredth birthday, which would be celebrated a week before Yule. The tall maiden stood at the gate, waiting for her two friends. When she saw them at the end of the road, she ran to greet them.

'Niphredil, oh, Niphredil! It's really going to happen!'

'Of course, dear.'

'What?' asked Frodo.

'Eowyn, shall we tell him? He's trustable but I wanted you to decide.'

'I know he is. Frodo, I'm getting married. On Grandma's birthday. Your father is expected anyway, the mayor is always invited to a hundredth birthday. I'm getting married with Marron, and it must be kept a secret from everyone at Brandy Hall.'

'I promise I won't say a word.'

Niphredil smiled.

'Good. Now, what I'm here for is to smuggle Marron across the Brandywine without entering Buckland. Eowyn, have you found me a route?'

'Yes. My cousin Galahad Maggot drew you a map. There is a place called the North Shallows, five miles north from the Bridge. Nobody ever goes past it with a boat, there are so many stones. The Brandybucks think it may have been a ford long ago, when there was no bridge and Big People dwelt here. It's very hard for a hobbit to cross, you have to be able to swim and some of the stones are sharp. Animals refuse to cross there. But Marron can swim, and I guess you can, too?'

'Yes. But how did you know?'

'You're just the sort of hobbit to do things like that.'

'Ha! I take that as a compliment. Before we go in and stop talking secrets, Frodo, will you come with me to Bree?'

'I would, but I'm rather afraid of water.'

'Oh. And we just can't have you walking the road alone, when everyone remembers you left with me. Well, I'm sure this farm has work for you, what with the party coming and all. You could make pies with your mother's recipe, but remember not to eat all the mushrooms!'

They walked in to a house as full of hustle and bustle as an anthill, but ever so much more homely.

Eowyn's numerous cousins and aunts had spread their baking and cooking from the kitchen to the long dining table, some of the smaller children sat under the table begging for morsels of sweet dough, competing for the place and playing with two puppy dogs.

Eowyn seemed to be no part of the preparations, and she soon explained her special job was keeping company to Grandma Maggot - it would be a terrible thing, wouldn't it, if the one whose birthday it was got forgotten because she was too old to help. But when Frodo and Niphredil entered the old woman's room in Eowyn's wake, they saw she had not been idle.

Spread on the bed was the lower part of a wondrous white wedding gown, made of bleached linen and embroidered with flowers cut out of luxurious white silk. The upper part was in Grandma's lap and she was stitching it with little beads of white mother-of-pearl, in the pattern of one great, stylished lily. The matron was so concentrated on her craft that she did not notice the youngsters had entred the room.

'Grandma, they are here.' Instantly the woman lifted her eyes, startling sky-blue eyes, and looked at her guests.

'Hmm. One Baggins, one Gamgee. Well, young hobbit, will you follow her no matter where she goes?'

'The name's Gardner, Ma'am.' said Frodo, unable to answer the question.

'And he matters to me, whether he follows me or goes away. But I must compliment you on that wonderful gown. The lily pattern, the silk - perfect for a winter wedding.'

'Forgive me my odd greeting. But when I saw you, I sort of didn't, I saw your fathers, although I've only ever seen them once or twice. This gown - it is not all new. The silk and the beads are from the dress my Lily sewed for herself and never needed. I argued long with myself whether to take it apart or not, but I sincerely hope there shall be no need for a maternity wedding dress in this family while I live. Besides, it was made for Eowyn too - she was already inside her mother's body when Lily first tried this on. The veil she shall have as it is, a bit yellowed but it won't show with her golden hair shining though, and besides it has real pearls on the brow.'

'Eowyn, I envy you! Such a significant dress, and a secret wedding, I don't understand how you bear the excitement!'

'Hardly.'

'Huh?'

'I can hardly bear it.'

'A little while yet, I promise to bring you your fiancee as soon as I can. In fact, if I could just have some of those mushroom pastries I smelled dowstairs, and some other provisions, I shall be on my way. If you could lend us a cart, Frodo could drive me to the Bridge. He plans to wait for me here.'

'Eowyn, negotiate them some provender, be a dear. Those girls of mine dowstairs are counting every crumb, bless them!'

Negotiation was indeed the best word for what Eowyn did. She had not trusted even her own aunts with her secret, so they thought they were preparing Grandma's birthday feast. Niphredil seemed to have no business with it, and while they would gladly serve her a meal, provisions and mushroom pastries were another matter. And the cart was needed to haul a load of gifts from a craftsman in Woody End, another direction entirely.

'The gifts can wait! Niphredil has to go to Bree and back again before the feast!'

'Why so? She ain't no relative of ours, and I want no girl wearing trousers on such a day, with the Mayor here and all!' said Rose Burrows, who was in a bad mood because she had just burned a batch of cookies. Rose was generally a friendly woman, but her short memory caused many baking accidents and these in turn caused a short temper.

'Aunt Rose! Frodo here is the Mayor's son, and Niphredil is almost one of his family. Heavens, she is Niphredil Baggins!'

'And I've got a pretty dress in my bag. Made it myself. With embroidery on the sleeves!' Niphredil put in.

'Please, Aunt Rose! Niphredil will bring a special gift from Bree, but it's a secret, for it's a gift TO Grandma.'

'Oh! Then it's all right. Boldo, dear! Since you seem to be idle you could help these young folks get that stubborn creature of yours to draw the cart!'

Eowyn's Uncle Boldo was a good-natured fellow with grizzled hair. He smiled and seemed not to notice that the fire had gone out in the pipe he was holding in his mouth. He helped them indeed, and introduced them to a mule named Dandy.

'Big and strong and lazy as a bear in winter. But he's afraid of the stick although I try to spare it.'

And so they set forth.

Niphredil took leave of Frodo near the Gate on East side of the Bridge. They were in full view of the guards, but these could not hear them. She kissed Frodo on the mouth, then said:

'Have faith. Hope. Farewell!'

'Fare well, Niphredil, my love.' His eyes were full of tears, hers were dry. Niphredil stepped from the cart and her heart rejoiced at the thought of being on the road again. She shouldered her bow and bag, and walked to the gate.

'Are you leaving us, Miss Baggins?' the guard asked.

'Yes. I may return or I may not. Goodbye.' He let her out, then closed the gate, and turning, faced Frodo, who gripped the iron bars like they were the rails of a prison, and stared after the girl. She did not look back, not once.

'And who might you be?' the guard asked.

'Oh. Sorry.' He turned, 'Frodo Gardner, of Hobbiton.'

'Nice to meet you. I'm Samkin Smallburrows.' His face was without the least trace of smile.

'She definitely has you hooked,' Samkin commented, when Niphredil disappeared from their view.

'Excuse me?'

'She. Has. You. Hooked. You look like the fish who swallowed not only the bait and hook but the line and rod as well, and kissed the hand of the fisher.'

'What are you hinting? She is a good woman.'

'She sure is a woman. But you're not the first man she uses, nor the last. I suppose she'll go fishing in Bree.'

Frodo grabbed Samkin's tunic, scaring the youth.

'Nobody speaks like that about Miss Baggins! Apologise at once!'

'Sure, sure. Let go of me! I'm a guard and if you hit me it will be an offence!'

Frodo let go, but stared menacingly at Samkin.

'I apologise.' Samkin said at last.

'Why did you say those things about her?'

'Because... I wanted to warn you. There are women who... take what they want from a man, then leave him, and walk away whistling. And they way she left you just now, not looking back, it reminded me of something that once happened to me.'

Frodo stared at him. Suddenly he guessed. He grabbed hold of Samkin's collar and lifted him off the ground, although they were of a height.

'It was you! Cretin! What you did to her is unforgivable.'

'No. Put me down! I'll tell you who it was!'

'Tell me.' Frodo let Samkin's feet touch the ground put did not release his grasp.

'She called him Laiqualassë Meldanya.'

Frodo slowly let go. Then he breathed in savagely, and whispered a translation:

'Greenleaf my beloved.' He closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

'I'll get that elf if it's the last thing I do. This I swear. I will make him apologise to her. I will put him at her mercy. Witness my oath, Samkin Smallburrows.'

'I hear. I am your witness.'

'You will soon see me pass this gate. But first I have to return this cart to Boldo Burrows. And send a message home.'

'Frodo Gardner. I will go with you. I mean, when you leave Shire. But how do you find the elf you seek?'

Frodo smiled a grim smile with no joy.

'Easy. He's in Gondor. He's Legolas. Greenleaf. Son of King Thranduil. Friend of King Elessar, and of my father and hers.'

'Your father?'

'Sam Gamgee. The Mayor.'

'Oh.' Samkin smiled.

'This is right. It's destiny. Mr Gardner, I'll be your Sam.'

So it was set.


	11. Bittersweet Wedding Day

Ten: Bittersweet Wedding Day

I: Sweet

Young Galahad Maggot and his twin sister Galadrella sat hidden in the willows at North Shallows. Brandywine was wide there, and they could hardly see the trees of the opposite shore. They had been camped here for three days now, and considered it a grand adventure, but were also worried for their cousin's bridegroom: would he arrive in time?

Finally they saw movement: someone leaned against a tall stone in the middle of the river. The shape had long, dark hair. It was the Baggins girl. The twins stood up and finally saw Marron following her. They dared not shout, although no one was likely to hear. All they could do was wait.

When the travellers came nearer, they slowly rose from the water, and the twins saw that Marron leaned heavily on Niphredil. He also coughed a lot.

'Are you all right?' Galadrella asked.

'We are now. Niphredil saved me. I slipped and would have hit my head, but she caught me.'

'I promised everyone I would deliver the birthday package safe and sound.' Niphredil smiled, and they all laughed as they sat down.

'Where is Frodo?' Niphredil suddenly asked.

'We don't know. He's left the Shire, but nobody knows where he went. Eowyn is keeping a letter from him to you.' Galahad told.

'Left the Shire? Frodo Gardner?'

'Yes.'

'And so suddenly. I wonder...' But Niphredil never finished the sentence.

Galahad led Marron a little way ashore, and gave him dry clothes, while Galadrella gave Niphredil one of her own dresses she had left at the Maggot Farm.

'Why, I think no-one recognises me in a dress!' She exclaimed.

It was the day before Grandma Maggot's birthday. They had arrived just in time.

The feast was a grand one, with few but selected guests filling the whole household. The neighbours came, and many friends, and the Mayor and the Thain with their wives. The Master of Buckland came too, but left Estella to manage things in his absence, as his son was too young for that. The most respected guests sat at the big table, their relatives elsewhere in the main room, small children sat in laps and the bigger children had their meal in the large kitchen. The party began with cheers and congratulations, Mrs Maggot's daughters gave gifts from her to everyone, and then it was lunchtime. Eowyn wore a good dress, but not the white one. Marron was hidden, with Niphredil, in Grandma's room, and they had a cold meal that had been brought earlier. While everyone was busy with eating dessert and listening to the Mayor's speech, Marron and Niphredil climbed out by the window and she left him standing there, in his best suit.

Niphredil met Eowyn at the door and gestured her to go and change into her bridal gown.

Then the daughter of Frodo Baggins entered the hall. She was wearing a pretty green dress, and it took a while for people to recognise her. Sam Gamgee had just sat down but stood now again and exclaimed:

'Niphredil! I'm glad to see you. Do you know where my son has gone?'

'Alas, I do not', she said, for she had forgotten him in the excitement of the surprise wedding.

'Mistress Maggot, I have prepared a special surprise gift for you. It is the fulfilment of one of your dearest dreams. It is waiting for you outside. Shall I take your arm?'

And striding gallantly as any youth she led the old lady outdoors, followed by the entire party, some of them carrying their drinks and apples.

There stood Eowyn tall and noble in her snowy gown. There stood Marron, looking a bit bewildered, as most men look on their wedding day.

'Master Mayor, shall you wed us?' Marron asked.

'Please, master. This is my dearest dream, to see my precious Eowyn happily married.' Grandma told them all.

'Marron Brandybuck! Have you disobeyed me?' The Master of Buckland demanded.

'I have not entered Buckland. I came to Shire by swimming across North Shallows. Niphredil Baggins brought me, and Galahad and Galadrella Maggot saw us there.'

Everyone started chattering and gossiping. The Mayor was silent, thinking hard. Suddenly they saw someone rise from the bench beside the door, and rise taller than any of them, even taller than Merry, Pippin and Eowyn.

'It would please me to see them wed. Do not stand in their way, my friends. When they were younger, they walked secretly in my Wood and spoke promises. Their union will be a blessed one.'

'Tom Bombadil!' Merry, Pippin and Sam felt the years fall away as they saw Tom there, unchanged, save that the feather in his hat was white.

And so did Marron get his Eowyn. And the celebration was great indeed, and Tom Bombadil sang for them, and then went his way. And there was tea and cakes for everyone, and more presents, and many people gave the presents they had received to the wedded couple. And then there was dance in the hay-barn for everyone who could dance, and for many who thought they could until they heard Tomkin Maggot's thrilling fiddle. The rhythm was so fast that everyone who danced to it was kept warm in the winter night. And there was beer and wine, and a bridal chamber where Marron led Eowyn, the very chamber Eowyn had been born in, Lily's room, now decorated with mistletoe all over. After all, Yule was only a week away.

II: Bitter

Merry was at a loss. Everything had happened so fast. Tom Bombadil, Eowyn wed, Grandma telling him the wedding dress was made of Lily's wedding dress. After that he had drunk a bottle of wine, then another. Now he had decided to go out into the chill air to clear his head. Stars shone in the sky, high and cold. He had lost his daughter. At least she was happy.

'Are you happy, Lily?' He asked the stars.

'Yes.'

The answer came in a whisper into his ear. He looked at the speaker, and gasped.

There beside him stood Lily in the flesh. She wore a fur jacket, a green skirt, and a red scarf around her head. He looked straight into his heart with her piercing green eyes.

'Of course a woman is happy when her only daughter is happy.' Lily said.

'Is this a dream? Where did you come from?'

There was mystery in her eyes, as she turned them away from him.

'Hush.' Her hand was warm on his cheek, and they embraced, crying.

Lily led him into the stable, into a pile of hay in the farthest, darkest corner.

And Meriadoc Brandybuck had his dearest wish fulfilled.

He fell asleep holding onto that wish, holding onto Lily, who had returned to him from beyond the stars. Because she was so happy. Because Eowyn had found love. Or was she just a dream of a drunken head? Surely not, when her body was so solid in his arms...

But when he woke at the crack of dawn, Lily was not beside him. Someone else was. Thin, long legs showing under a green skirt. A small body wrapped in thick fur. Black hair, the scarf fallen away. A face turned away from him. He dared not look who it was. Part of him wanted to slip away before she woke. But the other part wanted to be honourable about it. As honourable as possible, anyway.

Suddenly the woman rolled around in her sleep. Merry stared at her, and spoke her name. She woke to it.

Her eyes were green, but she did not resemble Lily in any other way. Merry had wrapped a drunken dream around her and her ambiguous words, if she had indeed spoken them.

'Oh, cousin!' She said, 'I am so sorry.'

'So am I, Niphredil, so am I.'

'I was drunk again. I did wrong.'

'I was drunk, too. I saw Lily, not you. But even if you had been Lily I would have done wrong by Estella.'

'I won't tell anyone.'

'I will tell my wife.'

'Tell her also that I still respect you. I am unworthy.'

'No. You are still a child. You are innocent, you never meant no harm to anyone. You wanted to give Lily to me for one night, did you not? You meant to wake before me and go.'

'Yes. But I was drunk. And I was alone and I wanted someone and you are so handsome and I have lost Frodo.'

'Frodo? Your father? What do you mean?'

'No. Frodo Gardner. He's left the Shire and Eowyn has a letter to me but I forgot it and now I must wait.'

'Yes, you must. It's her wedding night.'

'Yes.'

Nobody had come to the stables yet, the animals all slept. The two cousins had a moment yet to themselves, before facing the world.

'Where did you get that fur-jacket?'

'It was Grandma Maggot's special gift to me. She knew about the wedding beforehand, you see.'

'Oh.'

'Frodo Gardner.' Merry said thoughtfully, 'Sam's son, isn't he?'

'Yes.'

'Do you love him?'

'Maybe. I miss him.'

'His family is such a respectable one, too.'

'But his father left the Shire.'

'Oh, that. Yes. But Sam was very shy with Rosie until their wedding-'

'Merry! He never. Not Frodo. I took your advice when we last met.'

'Sorry.'

'Merry.'

'Yes?'

'Please tell no-one, except Estella, and ask her to keep it secret that it was me you - you - ' Niphredil suddenly started sobbing.

'You don't have to say it. I'm good at keeping secrets, remember?'

'But is Estella?'

'The very best. Her mother is a midwife.'

'Do you love Estella?'

'Yes.'

'As much as you loved Lily?'

'That I cannot measure, for I never loved them both at the same time. All I have of Lily is a memory.'

'You are wise. I wish I could be like you, and love only one man.'

'Who would it be? Frodo Gardner, or Legolas Greenleaf?'

'Ah! If only I knew. Frodo is so nice and so much like his namesake but also like his father, I mean he has a power of hope inside him. But Legolas is nice in another way, and he's very wise and when I was with him I desired him with all that is in me, but now I have only a memory. And being separated from him is what made me a _g'reshu_.'

'Where did you learn that word? It's a nasty one and of the Black Speech. Westron has no word like it.'

'Where did you learn it?'

'Lang used it of Lily so I asked Gandalf before he went West what it means.'

'I knew an orc once.'

'Oh no!'

'He was only a cub and as good as orcs can be. All he wanted was to 'see golden trees and die'. So I took him near Lorien and he expected the elves to kill him but they let him live. And I walked under the trees and saw the flowers of my name and drank from Nimrodel and felt pure. And I looked into the Mirror but all I saw were the stars, but they were not the stars above me. In the mirror I saw Valacirca - the Sickle you call it, but above me it was hidden. And I was allowed to enter that land because I bore the mallorn leaf, and this.'

Niphredil showed her cousin the Phial of Galadriel, dark and dim.

'It shone when I defended Snaga - the orc-child, and when I showed it to the Galadhrim, and once more at Rivendell, but there I erred again and after that it has been as you see it.'

'In this I can give you no counsel. But Valacirca! What do you think it means?'

'Oh! Elbereth set it in the sky to defy Morgoth! The Sickle of Valar! Their wrath, their revenge, a harvest of blood... ever since Eönwë gave me a bow I've known, somewhere deep in my heart, that my part is the path of war...'

'Who walks it with you?'

'Merry! Thank you!' Niphredil hugged her cousin.

'That was the best question anyone has asked me in a long while! That is my choice - who would I take to war? Frodo or Legolas?'

'Your Father did not take Legolas to Mordor. He took Frodo's father.'

'I'll remember that. But perhaps I cannot take either one, as Legolas wants me not and Frodo is gone.'

'Eowyn has a letter.'

'Yes. It is time I go into the house and you stay here and sleep alone.'

'Niphredil... take care.'

'I will. You too!'


	12. Frodo's Letter

Eleven: Frodo's Letter

Niphredil met Galadrella at the well. She watched the girl break the ice in the well by means of dropping a stone on a rope, and then haul up the first bucket of a winter day.

'Good morning, Drella!'

'And a good morning to you! Where did you sleep, did you forget you had a bed right beside mine?'

'I forgot indeed. I was drunk and found myself in the stable when I woke - I'm lucky I chose to fall down in a clean pile of hay and not get my new jacket soiled!'

'A woman ought not to drink that much, you know.'

'Nobody ought to drink that much. Can I have some water?'

Niphredil drank and washed her face.

'You know, Galadrella Maggot, I think I'll drink nothing but water from this day on until I get my life in order!'

'Not ever tea?'

'Some people put brandy in tea, and I could mistake wine for juice. No, plain water for me, from now on!'

Those guests who had stayed the night were coming to seek breakfast one by one. It was a quiet meal because so many were asleep even in the very room and headache was not a rare condition among those who were awake. Niphredil put half the athelas she had into a bowl of warm water on the table and soon received a bunch of thanks. Then Eowyn appeared and sat down beside her.

'Well?' Niphredil asked.

'What?' Eowyn was still sleepy.

'Is that any way to greet a bride?' Someone asked and got a tired laugh from the menfolk.

'My letter from Frodo.'

'Oh! Here it is, in my pocket.'

Niphredil silently read these words:

'Dearest Niphredil,

I have heard from a reliable person the name of the man, who is no true man, who stole from you something that cannot be restored to you, and broke something that cannot be repaired. Since he also broke your heart and stole your spirit, which can be restored, I will attempt to restore these to you by making him confess his crime and seek your forgiveness. I attempt to put him at your mercy, for if it were known what he has done, he could have no high position and would lose, if not the friendship of kings, at least that of queens and all womankind.

All this I will do out of love. Forgive me that I have departed so suddenly, but I hope to return as soon as I can.

With me goes a trusty friend, Samkin by name, and thus are we Frodo and Sam.

If it suits you, you may of course follow us. We take the shortest road south, along Brandywide to the old green road, and past Isengard to Gondor, where we hope to find the one we seek. Our route you may tell to my father, as I forgot to tell it in the letter I sent home, but your secret is safe with me and I don't think anyone needs to know it. I've told them I went to see the world.

After I return, seek me in my father's house whenever you need anything that I can give you, be it my heart, be it my inheritance, or be it just friendship and a place to spend the night when you pass through the Shire where ever the road takes you.

Yours truly,

Frodo Gardner'

Niphredil folded the letter. She wondered if the Samkin was named Smallburrows, and if he was the 'reliable person' mentioned - but he could not be, as he knew nothing about Nár son of Bárin. Who knew? Merry, who was good at keeping secrets, and who had known nothing about Frodo's departure. Legolas, but would he have visited Shire in secret? And why would he tell Frodo something like that? It couldn't be him, either. Snaga had heard a lot, but no names, and also was extremely unlikely to come north. Elanor? Niphredil had not told her, and yet she had seemed to know... Reliable person, it could be man or woman, hobbit or elf... or dwarf! What if Nár had told someone? And that someone had passed through the Shire?

'Eowyn? Is there anyone named Smallburrows here?'

'That's our neighbour's name! They were here yesterday, but now they are home, of course.'

And so Niphredil ended up knocking on a stranger's door at an early hour.

'Yes? How can I help you? A bald hobbit who looked like he had just woken asked her.

'Excuse me? Are you master Smallburrows?'

'No, I'm just a visitor here. Came for that Maggot party yesterday. My sister's husband, the master of this house, went milking the cows and will be back any moment now.' Indeed, a younger hobbit was soon seen carrying buckets of milk to a side entrance, where a woman took them, and then going back towards the cowshed.

'Excuse me, master farmer! Could I ask you something?'

'Why, good morning! Aren't you the Baggins lass who gave us a wedding! I mean, we had a birthday party and then it wasn't!'

'That's me. Niphredil Baggins, yes. Are you related to a Samkin Smallburrows? Young fellow, dark hair, about your height?'

'That'd be my nephew. Funny you should ask...'

'How so?'

'Well, his father Robin is here, still asleep I'm afraid, and Samkin was supposed to come too, he's been doing a lot of guarding at that new gate of theirs, not far from here, only he didn't come, and Robin says the lad's left Shire altogether, only he can't say why or where to, and that's no way of taking leave of one's father, if you ask me.'

'Well, thank you. I think I can give him the where to, and something of a why as well.'

'In that case I'll wake him at once!'

'At once' seemed to mean in this house after waking a lot of other people and explaining them a lot of things, many not related to the matter at hand at all, such as ordering a son to go see a cow's leg and a daughter to clean a table. Finally Robin Smallburrows was found and roused, and Niphredil was introduced to him, as they had not met at the party.

'Your son has gone to Gondor!' Niphredil announced, and that opened Robin's eyes quite wide. Suddenly they were surrounded by eager listeners all over.

'But that's at the other end of the world!'

'Not quite. I've been there and it's a good way away, I admit, but not too long to walk, although the way does take time.'

'How do you know where he is?'

'Because he left with a friend of mine. My friend, Frodo Gardner, wrote letters to me and to his father, and told us that he has gone to see the world with his friend Samkin. He also told they will go to Gondor and be back as soon as possible. But I was not sure if it was your Samkin he meant, but since he was the only Samkin I know of I thought to come and ask. But did he not write you a letter?'

'Our Samkin? He never learned to write, and if he had, it wouldn't be much use as neither me nor the missus never learned to read!'

'Oh.'

'So we only heard from the other guards he was gone. But how do you know our Samkin, Miss Baggins?'

'I told you I was to Gondor once. Well, I came to Shire by the new gate and stayed the night at the guardhouse, and talked a lot with him and the other guards, and then I saw him when I went to get master Marron from Bree, but we didn't talk much as I was in a hurry.'

'Indeed! Quite a surprise you had for us yesterday! Are all your friends as adventurous?'

'Well, I think Marron and Eowyn will settle down now, and the rest of Frodo's family are quite peaceful too.'

'I've never heard of the Gardner family, nor of this Frodo. He must be a new friend to my son.'

'His family is named Gamgee. He took himself a new name because his granddad told him 'It ain't the business of Gamgees to _inherit_ Bag End, it's our job to _gardener_ there.' And so he said: 'then I shall be called Gardner', and he is, although he hasn't inherited yet, of course. And he does tend the garden more than anyone else.'

'What! You're telling me he's the Mayor's heir?'

'Yes.'

'Strange days indeed. Yesterday that wedding, and the Bombadil fellow, and now this. Gondor and the Mayor's heir! Next you'll be telling me you are the daughter of Mad Baggins and that hobbits can fly!'

'Not unless you call Frodo Baggins mad.'

'Frodo? But he's another one who disappeared! You must be joking.'

'My father is alive and well, or was when I last saw him. I cannot tell where he is, nor do I claim any property in the Shire but what I brought with me.'

'Well, at least hobbits can't fly!' Remarked a girl, who held a wet drag of cloth in her lap because she had forgotten all about cleaning tables for the moment.

'Don't be too sure about that. My Uncle Bilbo, or Mad Baggins to you, flew astride a great Eagle once, as did my father and Sam Gamgee later. Ask the Mayor the next time you meet him, and he'll be glad to tell you all about it.'

And with that, Niphredil took her leave of this talkative family.


	13. Frodo and Sam

Twelve: Frodo and Sam

Only two days after parting from Niphredil, before which Frodo had thought that her retreating back would be the closest he'd ever see of adventure, he himself set out south, and found courage he had not thought he possessed.

For Samkin had suggested they go by boat to the Ford of Sarn. And Frodo was afraid of water, and still he agreed. For he wanted to go fast and by the shortest road, or river, so as too return soon.

And Samkin owned a boat, and knew how to navigate it. And the stream sped their way so they reached the Ford in a day. Frodo was afraid, camping out in the wilderness, but he dared not show it. These were empty lands, with few paths and few wanderers, if any, for they met no-one. Frodo's fear was not of orcs and troll but of bears and wolves. Samkin had a guardsman's spear and a hunting bow, but Frodo was unarmed save for a knife and a sling, so he borrowed the spear from his friend.

'Are you really called Sam?' Frodo asked, as they fried fish for supper - they had hung a line from their boat and been lucky to catch some.

'Yes, sometimes.'

'So why were you named Samkin?'

'Well, my father knows your father, although he got a bit shy when good old Sam was made Mayor, anyways he named me sort of after him.'

Of their journey a long story could be told of, as they came the great road that goes south, and walked it one cold day after another. Winter is a time of warm beds and staying home, but these were forgotten by the two companions. Sometimes they did meet other travellers, Big People with a funny way of speaking and dark brows, the people of these lonely lands, who had been here before Numenor built its roads and would probably remain as long as the roads did. And the tidings exchanged were simple: that Shire was not for humans but Bree and ancient Arnor welcomed them, and that in Gondor and Rohan all was well and in Enedwaith getting better. But in the East, far in Rhûn and Khand, there were warlords who troubled King Elessar and slaves who still yearned for freedom.

And the companions crossed a river the name of which they had known at a bridge they had expected to be a ford, and entered an inhabited land, although sparsely so. Enedwaith. And there was even an inn or two on the road, but the beer served was too bitter for hobbit tastes.

Niphredil followed Marron and Eowyn to their house in Bree, which they reached just in time for Yule. She wanted to guard her friends on the road, yes, but she knew also that she was putting off a great decision. They young couple were glad of her help in arranging the house and of her company, for Marron had but few friends in Bree and Eowyn had none, and not even newlyweds want to spend Yule in a silent and empty house. Niphredil, even in her present state of mind and holding onto her promise of drinking plain water, was one who knew how to make a party. She urged them to invite all their new neighbours, she told stories and arranged fun and games, and took the party to the Prancing Pony after the hosts retreated to their bedchamber.

And then it was closing time, well after midnight, and she stepped out into darkness, perhaps the first time ever she left an inn straight sober.

And she knew, in the silence of that darkest of nights, that it was time she found her way.

She sat on a pile of firewood beside the door of Marron's house, and took out the Speaking Stone, Quetondo.

'Merry Yule, my friend.'

'Yule? Forget Yule! You have to hurry!'

'Where to?'

'To Gondor, of course! I feel it, I feel something terrible happens if Frodo gets there before you!'

'But how can I catch him? I cannot fly, never again!

'Are you sure? Have you tried?'

'Well, no. Not as such. But I think no magic will come to me. Not even in the Phial.'

'Try it. Try the Phial, and see.'

'Eärendil be blessed! A spark, tiny but bright, steady. I see it, do you see it, Quetondo?'

'I see it.'

'Tule!'* She called, and all her possessions from indoors were suddenly at her feet.

'Rámar!'**

A falcon flew from where a maid had stood, high into the cold air, towards the south.

A falcon landed on a tree in Ithilien only a week later.

* Quenya, 'Come!'

** 'Wings!'


	14. The Silver Quill

Thirteen: The Silver Quill

Winter in Ithilien. A season of rain. Cold nights, frost on the ground. Leafless trees, as this tall willow beside the Great Anduin. Under the tree, someone clad in green sat with a quill and parchment in his hands.

Soundlessly, a falcon landed in the branches. A moment later there sat a maiden, peering down at the man below. With satisfaction she recognised him as the one she sought.

'Have you turned scribe all of a sudden?' Niphredil asked, laughing, as she climbed down.

The man stared at her with amazement in his sea-grey eyes.

'Niphredil! What queer wind brought you here?'

'The northern wind on falcon wings!'

'Really? How are things in the Shire?'

'Well - they are well! You may have heard Sam Gamgee is the Mayor, but did you know he has thirteen children? The eldest is named Elanor. My father named her. Merry and Pippin have families too, and the last party I went to was the wedding of Merry's daughter. Eowyn. But she was _not _wed to Pippin's eldest, although his name is Faramir.' Niphredil babbled away and tried to get a look at the parchment Legolas had dropped.

'What were you writing?'

'I was drawing. Look, isn't she a beauty?' He picked the drawing up and revealed it with a grandiose gesture.

Niphredil gave it a long, appraising look.

'Mmm. Lovely. You draw well. What is she called?'

'What is that to you if she be called Thuringwethil?' Legolas grinned.

'You wouldn't dare! You'd never find the Straight Path in a ship named after a vampire*. But oh, so many sails! She'll be a grand one indeed.'

'Yes, and her name will be Ariel.'

'Ariel! Why, it means the same as 'Arwen' and 'Arien'. Who is she named for?'

'My mother. Queen Ariel Bereth-Galadhren**. Her last words to me were that she regretted never having seen the Sea. Since I cannot show Ariel the Sea, I'll at least let the Sea see Ariel.'

'Oh. She has been gone many years now, by the calmness of your sorrow.'

'Three centuries, no more.'

'Oh, my friend. I cannot know, but we had no graves that new at Eresseä until...'

'Until Bilbo.'

'Yes.'

Legolas took her small hand in his and helped her sit down. Then he covered their knees with his cloak, for she was suddenly shivering. Silently they sat hand in hand and stared at the inked draft of a proud ship, with the statue of a fair woman on her prow. Legolas whispered the words of an elven song -

'A, my sorrow, ai! My life

like a star that will not shine

A, my sorrow, ai! My love

Slain and bleeding, ai! My love

at the sacred swan's-wing cove

A, my sorrow, ai! My love.'***

'A, nîn naergon, nae! Nîn cuil!

Galad alsíla gîl

A, nîn naergon, nae! Nîn mîl!

Dangen agarwaen, nae! Nîn mîl!

Na iaun alphrafn cîl

A, nîn naergon, nae! Nîn mîl!'****

To his surprise Niphredil responded with an ancient Quenyan version:

'A, nienya, ai! Coinya!

Ve 'elen úyë cilya

A, nienya, ai! Meldanya!

Talantië sercëa, ai! Meldanya!

Mí aira alquaráma cirya

A, nienya, ai! Meldanya!'*****

'I know the song. It is a lament of Alqualonde. One of many. How has it come to Middle-Earth?'

'The Vanyar who fought at the downfall of Angband brought songs with them. This they sang, the Sindar thought, for their slain companions. Later we learned from the Noldor it tells of the shameful kinslaying, but it had already become a funeral song among others. Now, forget all graves, young one, and tell me why you have returned to this land?'

'It is a strange matter. Let Quetondo explain, I don't understand him one bit.' Niphredil took out the living stone.

'Greetings, Prince Legolas! Niphredil, has he seen the letter yet?'

'No.'

'Let's have a look at that first.'

'All right. But Legolas, this is kind of a personal letter, and I'm not showing it to everyone.'

He read Frodo's letter.

'"The man, who is no true man", whom does he mean?'

'Nár the Dwarf, I guess.'

'Who knows, then?'

'I've told only Merry Brandybuck.'

'And he certainly...'

'...is good at keeping secrets. I know.'

'So how could Frodo have learned of it?'

'From the dwarves?'

'Not likely. Nár is not of Durin's people, he is an eastern dwarf, and none of his family would travel through the Shire. If they have business at the Blue Mountains they tend to take a more southern road, and even that seldom.'

'So how come he is here, at the heart of the west?'

'Gondor is not the heart of the west. Arnor may have been, once, but the true heart was Beleriand.'

'So what is Gondor?'

'A village of stone houses on a bloodstained battlefield. A gathering of youths who have to do the decisions of the elders, for the elders have grown too weak. But all this has little to do with you.'

'Has it?' And yet I shall fight for Gondor!'

'Fight for Gondor? At the eastern wars?'

'Yes. Quetondo, tell him.'

'It so happens, prince Legolas, that our Niphredil had a look into the Mirror of Galadriel, and she saw Valacirca - saw it in the mirror, but not above. Much as one sees the stars at Kheled-zaram, I think.'

'In Mirrormere, perhaps. But Galadriel is gone and her ring is powerless. Nobody sees anything in that basin anymore.'

'You forget, prince, that there are powers older than the rings of Eregion. Powers that rival Sauron, powers stronger than either the Master Ring or its maker, when they were separate. Such a power is in Arien's blood. Niphredil. Did she not fly as a silver seagull? You still have that quill, I perceive. And now she has flown again, a falcon this time. But the change of shape is not all she possesses.'

'Niphredil, is this - why such a scared look?'

'I have no powers! It is a mistake! Not me, I'm not my mother!' The girl buried her face in her hands. Huddling there, she looked very small and frightened indeed. Legolas felt an urge to hold her, but he dared not. If her heart still walked the paths of cruel darkness and loveless desire, she would ensnare him. Quetondo went on speaking, a stone-hard voice somewhere in the hobbit's lap.

'I have heard you speak the words of command, in the noble tongue. 'Tule!' you said, and your belongings came to you from a locked house. And your thoughts, too, have moved things, small but significant things.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, if your power had not interfered, you would be pregnant now.'

'What? To who?'

Legolas tapped the girl's shoulder to get her attention.

'Perhaps you would like to have this discussion alone with Quetondo?'

'No! Please, be a friend to me, I'm afraid of this magic he speaks of, if you leave me now with him I'll throw him into the river!'

'That would not be wise, Ohtarcë.'

'I know, Quetondo, but I'm too afraid to think. You say I have the power to - make myself barren?'

'For a moment, yes. When you fervently wish so. As you did a week before Yule.'

'Oh. You mean, I would be pregnant to him?'

'I'm afraid so.'

'Thank the holy ones! But don't you think it's risky to tell me about it? I will have even more temptations now.'

'And you will refuse them all. That is why I tell you about the power now instead of before. Niphredil, when you used to drink too much, you would have been dangerous, very dangerous, had you know of such a power in you.'

They all were silent and thought about this for a moment.

Then Legolas spoke:

'Is this true? That you no longer drink, that you refuse temptations?'

'I have drunk only water since - since a week before Yule.'

'And as to other temptations? Forgive me, but I have to know.'

'I only ever did those mistakes when I was drunk. Of course you must know. Legolas, it is I who should beg for forgiveness. I hurt you last spring, I really did. I broke my word to you.'

'You broke a lot more than that. My heart. But you are forgiven. Don't cry. Look at me. I must ask you a question. Please look at me.' Slowly Niphredil lifted her gaze.

'What is the relationship between you and Frodo Gardner?'

'We have behaved in a most respectable way.'

'That was not what I meant. Are you in love?'

'He is. I'm not sure about myself.'

'Not sure? How can one not be sure about love?'

'Easily, if one is mortal.'

'You are more than mortal, Luthien's Shadow.'

'Quetondo! Tell me everything or nothing, stop hinting and wrapping me in names.'

'Very well. You have ainurin blood, Niphredil Baggins. It gives you magical abilities. When you learn them in their fullness, you are able to take any shape you wish, as long as it is female. Bird or animal, even a tree, man, elf, or hobbit, dwarf, or some other, nameless shape. But you could also become a dragon, a vampire, a wraith, and if you held the shape too long you might forget what you truly are. In a small measure you can manipulate the things around you. If you wished you might manipulate people, too, but that would be wrong. You are the most powerful user of magic in all the western parts of Middle-Earth. If you join the wars you will save many of your companions, and slay more enemies than any knight.'

'I knew it!' Legolas exclaimed.

'You knew? What?'

'That your archery skills are more than natural.'

'Oh, that.'

'I am not finished yet,' Quetondo said, 'The path of war is not the only one that opens before you. You could study your skills, to use them in full measure.'

'Who would teach me?'

'There is one, and one only. Radagast the Brown.'

'I will consider this.'

'Very well, I see I am in the company of a wizard. What shall you be called? Niphredil the Green?'

'Do not mock me, Legolas!'

'Oo, do you threaten me with your wrath?'

'Please.'

'Sorry. But we are no closer to the solution of your problem. How did Frodo learn about Nár? I think it might be useful if you told me all you can about what you have done since last we parted.'

'I went to Rohan, for a brief time. I wandered in East-Emnet, where all I met was grass, endless plains. I loved it. And I met a horseman, Eodhelm by name. He took me as far as the Field of Celebrant, and there I met another lonely traveller. An orc. The child of an orc, who was walking towards Lórien. He called himself Snaga, begged me to let him live, and told he wished to see 'golden trees' before he died. He had heard of them and elves with sharp arrows, he was younger than I, not nice, but not evil either. I led him to Lórien and took charge of him, vouched for him in front of the Galadhrim. As far as I know, he still lives in a mud hut within sight of the southernmost mellyrn. In Lórien I poured water into Galadriel's Mirror, and many saw visions in it, but I saw only Valacirca. Then I walked north, as far as the Upper Pass though the mountains, and the road took me to Rivendell. It is curious, but there for the first time I truly felt I was following the footsteps of Frodo and Bilbo. But Rivendell is no longer as homely a house as it used to be. Neither Elladan nor Elrohir have taken a wife, and the lack of a female presence can be felt like a heaviness in the air. I did not stay there long. I hurried my way towards Bree, where for the first time I met hobbits other than my family. I talked to a youth in trouble, Marron, and helped him out of some of it with the simple gift of a golden coin, for he turned out to be my second cousin. I also took a letter to carry to his sweetheart, Eowyn Brandybuck, and later they were indeed able to marry. The Shire is nowadays defended against intruders, and I spent my first night there in a guardhouse. The second I slept in a room that used to be my father's, in Brandy Hall, where I met my cousin Merry. But before summer ended I came to Hobbiton and to the Hill. To Bag End, where Sam Gamgee now lives with his Rosie and all the children. Let's see... Elanor, Frodo and Rose are the eldest, then Merry and Pippin, Goldilocks, Daisy and Hamfast - or was it the other way round, and there is a Bilbo as well, Ruby and Robin, tiny little Tolman, and Primula - no, Primrose she is. I really should remember better, I stayed there for a good while. After Eowyn and Marron were married, I went to Bree with them to help them arrange their new home. And from there I came here.'

'At which point Frodo left?'

'Before the wedding, while I was busy elsewhere.'

The sun had almost set while they talked. A young woman came to the river, calling out:

'Prince Legolas? Are you here? You'll get a cold if you keep doing this.'

'Elves don't catch cold, Firiel.' He stood up, and Niphredil did the same.

'Niphredil, this is Firiel daughter of Ondoin. Firiel, this is the maiden I've told you about. Niphredil Baggins.'

'Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Baggins.'

'Er... I'm glad to meet you, too.'

'Firiel is a student of the healers. They have a house not far from here, and I've been staying there now and then.'

'And he is a real bother. We never know whether to expect him or not, and when he does come it is never at a decent hour.'

'Now, now, ma'am. I never asked for a room, it was you that offered it.'

'As if I would allow a prince to sleep outdoors in midwinter! And don't you 'ma'am' me!'

'As if I had not slept outdoors in a proper snowy northern winter any number of times.'

'Well, Miss Baggins is no elf, and I'm sure she would love a warm bed and a warm supper.'

'Indeed I would, if such are available. Legolas, you can sleep up in a tree for all I care, but I feel like my bones are frozen. Thanks for lending the cloak.'

'I didn't say that I wouldn't come, Firiel. But you are right, I shouldn't have let my little friend sit so long in this cold place.'

'If we all are agreed, then let us go. The sun has set.' And Firiel led them to a winding path.

Linguistical and historical notes:

* There are vampires in the Silmarillion. Thuringwethil is a female messenger of Sauron.

** Ariel, Arwen and Arien all mean 'Noble Woman' (Arien can also be taken to mean Sun-Maiden, but I think it is she who has given name to the sun, not the other way round). Bereth-Galadhren means 'Queen of Trees'.

*** 'A!' Is the elven equivalent of 'Oh'. 'Ai!' means 'Alas!'

**** This is as pure Sindarin as I can manage. Literary translation:

'Oh, my sad lament, alas! My life!

Reflecting an unshining star

Oh, my sad lament, alas! My love!

Slain, bloodstained, alas! My love!

At the holy place, the swan's-wing passage,

Oh, my sad lament, alas! My love!'

***** And this, my Quenya. Notice how the meanings have changed with time and one word has been misunderstood.

'Oh, my sorrow, alas! My life!

Like a star that will not shine

Oh, my sorrow, alas! My beloved!

Fallen, bloody, alas! My beloved!

In the holy swan's-wing ship,

Oh, my sorrow, alas! My beloved!'

I'm a nitpicker with languages, I know...


	15. The House of Health

'(Thorin) put on Bilbo a small coat of mail, wrought for some young elf-prince long ago. It was of silver-steel, which the elves call _mithril_, and with it went a belt of pearls and crystals.' - J.R.R. Tolkien, 'The Hobbit'

Fourteen: The House of Health

Warm light shone out of square windows in a little country house. At first glance it appeared like any farmstead, but as one stepped on the garden path one could feel the faint scent of athelas in the damp air. And when one looked at what seemed to be the flowerbeds one saw that all the dry stalks and wintering bushes belonged to medicine plants, both rare and common.

At the door, two women stood, one with a candle-lantern, the other with a kitten in her arms.

'Greetings, Ioreth, and greetings, Vanian. I bring to you a dear friend, Niphredil Baggins.' Legolas introduced them.

'Ioreth? Were you the one who - the one who tended to my cousin Meriadoc, and the Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn? Who spoke the prophecy about the king's hands?'

'That was I, yes. And you are of the halfling race, of the family of him, who fought Sauron?'

'The Ringbearer is my father, yes.'

'Welcome to the House of Health. I am too old to work nowadays, so all I do is pass my knowledge to these younger ones. Vanian is the mistress of this house, and Firiel is her niece and our student.'

The supper was a simple but nourishing meal: dark spiced bread, salted fish, winter apples, mushroom soup and white Ithilien wine that Niphredil declined, drinking water instead.

'A little wine would warm you, dearie,' Vanian said.

'The soup warms me well enough. It is better for me not to touch wine, for reasons of health.'

'But surely you are strong and young?'

'Young, yes, perhaps too young to drink wine. It is six years yet to my coming-of-age.'

'It is? And yet I hear you travel alone!' Firiel exclaimed.

'I do, and perhaps it is foolish, but I have finished my studentship in the craft of war. My teacher gifted me with a bow, and with the bow I also received Oromë's wanderlust.'

'So you are a warrior? Like the Shieldmaiden?'

'I carry no shield. My armour is a hidden one. But yes, it is possible that I will go to war, although not dressed as a boy.'

'Some would say that you already are, in those trousers.' Vanian put in.

'Would you, mistress healer? Ioreth? Firiel? Legolas?' Niphredil's gaze circled them and all but the last turned their eyes downwards.

'I would not mistake you for a boy no matter what you wore', Legolas said quickly.

'Indeed? My cousin Marron did, you know? But of course, it is hard to cheat an elf.'

'Speak not to me of cheating, Niphredil Baggins. That word bites me like a knife.'

'Sorry - I did not mean -'

'I think it is time we all went to bed. Prince Legolas, your room is ready, and Miss Baggins, would you like to have a room to yourself or share Firiel's room? The latter is warmer because the chimney goes right next to it.' Vanian offered.

'If Firiel does not mind I would love to be her guest.'

'I do not mind the least,' Firiel assured her, and went to pick the grey kitten in her arms.

'Come now, Beru, my little purring hot-water-bottle, bedtime it is.'

Firiel's room was a maiden's chamber fit for any mansion: a bed broad enough for the two girls, a dressing table with a mirror, and a silver candlestick. Niphredil slept well, with the kitten Beru coiled between her and Firiel, warm indeed.

In the morning, having washed her face, she asked Firiel:

'Do you think I'd better wear a dress? I would not like to cause offence in my older hostesses.'

'If you have one, it might be a good idea.'

Niphredil took out her best dress, the green one she had made herself.

But Firiel shook her head.

'I am sorry, that may be an appropriate robe in the wild north, but if you wore it here people would assume you are a servant-girl running errands for the healers!'

'My cousin Peregrin, Ernil-i-Pheriannath to you, he might say running errands for the healers is sometimes the most important position of all.'

'You see? You are of a noble lineage! Would you like to borrow one of my dresses? I think you are the same size as I was at age twelve.'

'Thank you, Firiel.'

The maiden took from a chest at the foot of the bed a frilly pink dress. Niphredil tried it on, but it was her turn to shake her head.

'This will not do. Too many laces, and it is too long, I will be stepping on the hem all the time. And yet it is tight - here.'

She gestured at her bosom.

'Very well, all the rest are either longer or smaller. I'm sorry I can't help you. Is that green one really the best you have?'

'My best dress, yes. I wore it when I was a honoured guest at a wedding in my homeland.' As Niphredil said this, she realised that that was exactly what the Shire was. Her homeland, hers who had been born "next island to Paradise".

'I did not mean to offend.'

'You did not. Now, would you be so kind as to lend me a hairbrush, and perhaps some ribbons? I think I shall make the best of what I've got.'

Niphredil brushed her hair while Firiel dressed. Then the girl went to help Ioreth rise - the woman's age caused her the most difficulties in the mornings, and she needed help dressing.

Once she was alone Niphredil was seized by a sudden fury - she would show them all, she would not let the fashions of Shire be thus slandered... She took off her shirt, and the mithril mail that had always been right against her skin. Then she looked at the green dress on the bed. And then, she took out Quetondo and asked him:

'Could I do some magic to that dress? More embroidery, perhaps?'

'You could, if you only had the thread.'

Niphredil looked around - _but no, even if she did find silk threads, it would be wrong to steal them from Firiel_. Then her eyes fell on the hairbrush. It had some of her curly hair in it, and below, the golden wisps that had fallen from Firiel's head. She took these in her hand. She thought first about thread, then about embroidery. Roses - that would be a nice pattern. And when she opened her eyes, the hair was gone, and in the hem of the dress, there was a luxurious pattern, made in so thin golden thread that it was visible only up close, of roses full in bloom.

Satisfied, Niphredil put on the dress, and then the mithril mail over it. She finished her new style with some braids and white ribbons in her hair.

In the upstairs corridor, she met Firiel and Ioreth. Both gasped, and Ioreth would have lost her balance had she not leaned on Firiel's arm.

'Good morning, ma'am. I'm sorry, I did not mean to frighten you.'

'I thought I saw a ghost! You shine - isn't that your father's armour?'

'It is.'

Firiel smiled wryly.

'And you said your best dress was that green one.'

'It is. I said nothing about my best armour.'

'I can't wait to see the look on Legolas' face when he sees you.'

Niphredil blushed.

It was fortunate, however, that she had already been thus prepared for the encounter, otherwise she would have blushed red indeed when Legolas looked at her and smiled his mysterious elven smile.

'Good morning, fair warrior!'

'The same to you, noble prince!' Niphredil made a courtly curtsey.

'Legolas, isn't she amazing! Erniell-i-Pheriannath!' Firiel could hardly contain her joy. Niphredil was glad she heard no note of jealousy in her new friend's voice.

'That she is. Princess of the halflings. What have we done to earn this honour?'

'I have been told that my other clothes make me look like a boy or a servant girl.'

'Well, that at least is no longer likely. The mail I know well enough, but where did you get a skirt with elven embroidery?'

'Elven?'

'Yes, done in so light a thread that it takes elven eyes to see it.'

Now Niphredil did blush.

'Magic', she breathed hastily, too silent for Firiel and Ioreth to hear. Then, to change the flow of the discussion, she asked:

'Why did you give me that funny look when you said you know my armour?'

'Well, when I last saw it, your Father wore it, and before that I saw it on Bilbo both fore and after the Battle of Five Armies. But I have recently learned that was not the first time I saw it. When I last visited my father, King Thranduil, he told me that the Mithril mail Bilbo had used to belong to me.'

'To you?'

'Yes, used to. But when I grew out of it, he sold it back to the dwarves who had made it. I was, after all, his youngest son, and my mother was already wasting away in the sickness that took her. There would be no more sons for Thranduil.'

'How many brothers and sisters do you have, Legolas? You never speak of them.'

'There was Tasarion of the Willows, who died at the Battle of Dagorlad, and my sister Faenbrethil Whitebirch, who went to Lórien and then followed Nimrodel towards the sea and was never heard of again, and those who still remain at my father's court are Thondir of the Pines and my sister Neldoren of the Beeches.'

Niphredil counted with her fingers.

'Tasarion, Faenbrethil, Thondir, Neldoren, and you. Five in all. Are you friends with Thondir and Neldoren?'

'Thondir is so much older than I; he has always been more a master than a brother for me. And Neldoren has the unfortunate fate to remind everyone who looks upon her of our mother, so that she quickly took her place as the new Lady of the Wood when Queen Ariel died and has ever since remained aloft on that pedestal. My father has never denied any of Neldoren's requests no matter the costs, although his avarice in all other matters is legendary.'

'I have no siblings.' Niphredil said, a bit sadly. 'But I have made some good friends since we last met.'

'You mentioned some yesterday. The Gamgee family, Eowyn Brandybuck and her husband, your cousin Merry, plus a Rider of Rohan and an innocent orc, if such a creature exists.' But even as Legolas attempted to cheer Niphredil up, he saw a shadow had fallen on her face at the mention of cousin Merry and the Rohan Rider. That shadow told of a less-than-friendly parting, although Niphredil had probably assured herself than it had been 'more-than-friendly'.

'Well, I'm keeping you from your breakfast and that is not a good idea when a hobbit is concerned, is it?'

Niphredil smiled.

'I would like to send a message announcing your presence to the Queen, and to Gimli son of Glóin who is now at Minas Anor... If you don't mind, Erniell-i-Pheriannath!'

'I would be most grateful, prince Legolas.'

As Legolas sat in his chamber writing a formal message - the courtly forms of address used by humans had become familiar to him, so he hardly needed to concentrate at all - the conversations of the morning and the previous evening kept repeating themselves in his mind.

'_... A, nienya, ai! __Meldanya..._' he heard Niphredil's whispered song, and then the fierce declaration: '_I shall fight for Gondor!_' Quetondo's rock-hard voice told him: _'...and she saw Valacirca._' In words as round as pebbles the jewel-spirit spoke again: '_A week before Yule_.' A moment later Niphredil repeated them: '_Since a week before Yule'_. Then, out of context and yet not quite, she said the Rider's name: '_Eodhelm_'. Last of all Legolas heard, over and over, Firiel's joyful proclamation: '_Erniell-i-Pheriannath!_'

_Indeed_, Legolas thought, _and _'you can take any shape you wish'. _What shall you become? Mrs Gardner of Bag End? Or a knight of Gondor? Or perhaps, one day, Erniell-i-Sindarim?'*_

Just as he had thought this and closed the letter, there was a knock on the door.

'Legolas? Are you there?'

'Yes, come in.'

'What did you write about me?' Niphredil asked, as she saw the sealed letter.

'Only a polished account of your adventures, a renewal of your pledge to Her Majesty the Queen, and a humble request for an audience with Master Gimli.'

Niphredil laughed, suddenly recalling all the pompous ceremony that was so important in the court of Gondor.

'Does this meet your expectations?' Legolas asked.

'Most excellent, Master Scribe.' By this name Legolas knew she had not forgotten a word of yesterday's conversations.

'Niphredil. Close the door. Good. Contacting Gimli is the best step I can think of in figuring out Nár's whereabouts, since all my knowledge of dwarves comes from him. I also think that you should renew not only your pledge but also your intimacy with the queen. I think you made a mistake when you did not share your ... problem with her. Arwen Evenstar might have found you a better way out of your difficulties than escape and flat denial.'

'I confessed to you, finally, denying nothing.'

'Yes, but you denied the truth from yourself.'

'Which truth?'

'That what you had done was wrong.' 

'You are right, Legolas. That's exactly what I did.' Tears welled in her eyes.

'Now, now, no need to cry. Forgiven is better than forgotten, isn't it?'

'It is. Oh, how I wish -' But she bit her lip, silencing whatever wish had been about to escape past it.

'You dare not tell me? Very well, then I will make a guess. You wish you had never cheated on me. That is what being sorry is all about, isn't it?'

'Yes. But what's done is done and can't be undone, unless of course it's a bit of knitting.'

'That's the funniest proverb I ever heard. Where did you learn it?'

'From Rose Gamgee the younger.'

'Takes after her father, I'm sure. Samwise always was one down-to-earth treasury of wisdom. I'll never forget him saying 'I told you we'll need a rope if we lack one' about a dozen times in various dangerous parts of Moria.'

'Legolas.' She stared right into his eyes.

'If I hadn't done it, where would we be now?'

'Anywhere you could wish, Niphredil Baggins. Anywhere.' Legolas reached out for her hand. When she gave it, he drew her into his embrace, and then seated her in his lap on the chair.

'You mean - you would have married me?'

'If only you had wished so. And we could have lived anywhere - in Ithilien, in the Greenwood, in Lothlórien, in Rivendell, in Rohan, even in the Grey Havens right next to Shire. Or we could have travelled. In Fangorn. To the Eastern Wars. In the parts of Northern Arnor that still remain wild. We could be building a ship right now, together, to sail for the West. If only you had wished it so.'

And now at last Niphredil truly felt the pain she had caused. She had understood it for some time, but now she felt it, as true as if it were her own - and it became her own. She had broken his heart, and all these beautiful dreams. Only one remained, that of the ship and the sea, for it was a dream inherited from his mother. Niphredil suddenly saw that she had been absent-mindedly fingering the quill on the table. It was a silver one, like a very large seagull might possess, and she knew it well, for it had once belonged to her. She put it down and forced herself to look at Legolas.

The tears in his eyes surprised her.

'Oh, what have I done to you!'

'Forgiven is better than forgotten. It hurts me, but I forgive you everything you have done. From the reason of your escape to all the mistakes it caused you to make - and I would be happy not to know the details. All the mistakes. Eodhelm. Rivendell. The Guardhouse. And what happened a week before Yule, between yourself and your cousin Meriadoc.'

'Oh, Legolas! How can you know - I'm sure I didn't...'

'There is a shadow that fills your eyes whenever you mention a man or a place connected to such a mistake. Or, in the last case, a time.'

'Hard to cheat an elf, it is. Sorry. But you must also forgive Merry. He thought I was someone else.'

'His wife?'

'The ghost of his first betrothed. And he was drunk. And he told his wife about it later.'

'In my opinion, being drunk is no excuse, or if it is, one should never become drunk in the first place. But I forgive him, and will not mention this to anyone.'

'Thank you.'

'Is there something else you think I ought to know? As I said, I don't want all the details.'

'Well... um... yes. Another one that you know. In Rivendell...'

'Elbereth's mercy! Not Lord Celeborn, I hope!'

'Um, no.'

'Elladan or Elrohir? I know no others.'

'Neither. A visitor. This is very difficult for me, I had no idea you two were related...'

'Stop torturing me, please. Related? It must be my brother, then. It cannot have been my father.'

'No, Legolas. Neither your brother nor your father. Your sister. Neldoren of the Beeches.'

Legolas could not have been more shocked had the girl in his lap suddenly burst on fire. He had to force himself neither to drop her nor to speak stern words of reproach or angry curses.

'All right, now I do want details. Whose idea this was, yours or hers?'

'A little of both. She was feeling homesick and we both agreed Rivendell was not the place it used to be, and then at one party we both got drunk, real Mirkwood-style drunk she called it, and it might have been Elladan and Elrohir for us both, but they were above such things and told us it was not their habit of taking advantage of women in our condition. Neldoren told them she was very much in the habit of taking advantage of men no matter who was no matter in what condition, then she started acting even more drunk than she was, and then Celeborn told me to see the Lady of the Wood to bed and myself as well. Which I did, and that was just what Neldoren wanted. The moment we were alone she sobered up as much as she could and asked me if I thought Elladan had said no to her because she was ugly. You know she is everything but, and I told her as much, and she reacted as if I had been a man saying that to her.'

''You ain't a bad looking chap yourself, Baggins.' Those were her words as I remember them. I thought she referred to my hunting with the men and wearing trousers, so I laughed and made a mock bow. And when I stood up she was kneeling on the floor, to have her head level with mine I suppose, and when I looked into her eyes - well, let me just say that I can understand why your father finds it difficult to deny her anything. It was she who kissed me first, but after that I needed no teaching. Am I not a woman myself?'

'Niphredil, this is a serious matter. She is indeed the Lady of the Wood. Never before has she behaved as badly when representing the realm. I have known that she has set her eye on Elladan, and that he feels little for her, for a wife such as her would be hard indeed to please. In my father's court when no visitors are present, she does at times behave like a spoiled child. She has even, as you say, taken advantage of men. And worst of all, she once composed a pompous little poem in honour of your father.'

'Why is that so bad?'

'You are right, it isn't, only it feels like that, because it tells me I must believe every single word of your story. Elf women she respects and feels a little threatened by such as Arwen Undomiel, who has true majesty, and Galadriel, who can see right through her. She would never dare approach a woman of her own people. But you do appear a bit boyish, your behaviour was much like hers, and you are of a race that has intrigued her for a while. You were like a man to her, like your father, and men she has always manipulated... save, as you both learned through trial and error, such noble ones as the three Lords of Rivendell.'

'What shall you do? It wouldn't be fair if you forgive me but get her into trouble.'

'I do not wish to cause my sister trouble. I wish her to learn a lesson... like you have learned yours. Perhaps it might be wise for you to come with me to my father's court. You could tell her of your ...adventures, and perhaps become her friend. I think she has never had one.'

'But first we must deal with Frodo Gardner. I have no idea what he will do if he hears that I have been here already and then gone again.'

'Gone, I might add, with me of all people, and to my father's court for some secret reason. He would imagine that we are getting married. No, of course we must wait for him.'

'So we will talk with Gimli and then with Nár if we find him, right?'

'Talking with him would accomplish little. I know, for I tried that once. He is of the mind that he has done you no wrong, since he gave you gifts and offered to marry you. It means little to him that you returned the jewellery, and that he ruined your life. And an elf's feelings mean even less to him. He said if I wanted to keep you, I should have given better gifts. If someone comes and says what Frodo is going to say to him, he will take it as a direct insult against him and his family. And Nár will challenge him to a battle, and I rather think your Frodo wouldn't stand a chance, not even in that pretty mithril mail of yours. You think dwarves don't know the weak spots of their own handicraft? Although I must add that Nár's family is not one of mithril-smiths. His father Bárin was called, as the only one of the eastern dwarves, to the rebuilding of Minas Anor because of his skill in crafting stone, and he brought a bunch of sons with him.'

'What shall we do, then?'

'We shall find out Nár's whereabouts and think up something to occupy his time in a place that Frodo will never find his way to. A secret mission from Master Gimli himself might do the trick. Then we will find Frodo and you can explain him that you wish he left the Dwarf alone. And if he is desperate to impress you or to simply do something he has journeyed so far for, for his family does have a certain endurance in them that could be called courageous stubbornness, then I will offer myself to take his place and beat an apologise out of Nár.'

'You would?'

'It is a foolish enterprise, but at least it won't be such a risk for me.'

'Hmm. That might actually work - at least if we keep it a secret from him that we ever were anything more than friends.'

'He knows nothing about ...us?'

'Nothing. All I've told him of my past is that I'm... not exactly a maiden anymore. Nothing at all about you.'

'And why is it so important that he will hear nothing?'

'Because he is the son of Samwise Gamgee. He's shy enough already about me being a Baggins, as you could read in the letter, offering me his inheritance just like that, but if he hears that I was once in love with you... he will perhaps fall into the darkest of despair, and certainly, even if that happens, he will absolutely insist that he goes to meet Nár himself, for he will see that as the only possibility for him to be anything in my eyes. And your offering to go in his stead will spark jealousy in him, no matter how well I try to explain.'

'I see. Sounds like a sensible plan to me. And from now on, Niphredil Baggins, you will get used to being called 'elf-friend' a lot.'

After the girl had gone, Legolas leaned on his elbows and buried his hands in his hair. He had received many burdens, and the possibility of challenging a dwarf felt the lightest of them. It was at least quite honourable. The news about Neldoren was heavy to bear, but he could put it away until he would meet her again. The heaviest burden was how quickly Niphredil had turned the conversation to Frodo Gardner, how nicely she had described him and - oh, the pain of it - how she did not wish him to be shy about her or jealous for the sake of Legolas. After all he had said! Was she deaf, did she not grasp the meaning of his words, simple enough: forgiven is better than forgotten. She must be in love with Frodo indeed, although she perhaps did not realise it.

_Erniell-i-Phreiannath, I cannot bend your will. But I shall wait. As long as you live I can hope, Shadow of Lúthien. I can hope that you turn away from mortal death towards the West where you are born. I shall wait. Surely Frodo Gardner is not worth your shining life? One day it will be decided. Follow him to the grave if you will, my friend, or turn back to me and be more than friend once again. I shall take no wife as long as you live. Perhaps, someday, your heart will be turned towards mine again. For that day, I live. Until that day, I remain in Middle-Earth and build ships only on parchment. Let it be known to all that Legolas Greenleaf has no love but for the Sea, for one who has heard the gulls is never again satisfied on dry land... the gulls! How well did Galadriel say: Beware of the gulls! On silver wings my doom found me._


	16. Confessions

Fifteen: Confessions

It was the second day of the new year 1451 in the Shire. Meriadoc Brandybuck woke late, felt a mild headache still lingering from the Yule celebrations, looked out at a grey sky and decided the day simply couldn't get any worse, so he might as well use it to finish a certain unpleasant business. He asked to have his breakfast in his bedroom, and after eating sent for Estella.

'For the third time this morning, Merry, I'm not going to give you athelas for something as stupid as a hangover! Smoke a bit and drink water, that's my advice.'

'And I thank you for it kindly, although this time it came unasked. I did not send for athelas. I sent for you. I have something to tell you.'

'Well, what is it? If Eomer has been to mischief again, you know the times are over when he listened to his mother. Don't try to sneak away from your responsibilities as a father because of a headache.'

'Eomer has done no mischief that I know of, not after I had the talk with him about reading Kitty's diary. Which was yesterday morning. No, it is myself who has done wrong, indeed sneaked away from my responsibilities as a husband.'

'But you haven't! I told you, I understand perfectly why yesterday...'

'That's not what I mean, Estella dear. Let me tell you the whole of it:

'I know you have guessed already that I drank quite a lot at Eowyn's wedding. But that's not all I did. When I stepped outdoors for a moment, I spoke my thoughts aloud:

'Are you happy, Lily?' I asked, not expecting an answer of course. But I got one.

'Yes.'

'A woman's voice spoke to me in a whisper. I looked at her and saw Lily, in her familiar fur jacket, wearing a scarf of a bright red such as only she could dye, with her green eyes looking at me expectantly.

'Of course a woman is happy when her only daughter is happy.' She said. I asked her:

'Is this a dream? Where did you come from?' But she hushed me and led me into the stable, into a pile of hay in the farthest, darkest corner. You know what that means, don't you, Estella?'

But Estella Brandybuck was crying.

'Oh, my darling, I am sorry, but I promised her I would tell you. Let me continue!'

'Meriadoc Brandybuck, you are insane! You tell me of a drunken dream that you had of Lily returning to you and expect me to believe it? Do you still miss her that much? It must have taken quite a lot of imagination, perhaps you really believe in ghosts! Well, if you do, then she is Lady Lilywhite indeed, a wicked wraith that refuses to let go of you! I thought -' Estella had to pause to wipe her tears on her sleeve, ' - I thought you loved me! I thought you had accepted the fact that she is dead, and even the fact that her daughter has a life of her own now and in Bree of all places, I miss her terribly you know, and now I hear this - this fairy-tale.'

Merry took her in his arms.

'If it were a mere drunken dream, I would not bother you with it. But there really was a woman beside me in the pile of hay when I woke the next morning. Of course she was not Lily. But I had thought, for a moment of madness, after the despair of losing my daughter, that she was. She admitted she had deliberately caused me to think this, when she heard my words. The fur-coat and scarf she had received as gifts from Grandma Maggot, who gave away a lot of things that used to belong to Lily, for to her at least the wedding gave the reason to finally let go of Lily. I think the old lady was actually afraid that Eowyn would inherit some curse of never marrying happily.'

'Merry. You are changing the subject. Who was the woman who was not Lily in the morning anymore?'

'You must forgive her. She was drunk as well, and had experienced a personal shock recently.'

'Tell - me - her - name - or - I'll - strangle - you!' When Merry heard his wife's ridiculous threat, he knew the worst was over. She was not crying anymore.

'My cousin.'

'Which one? You have more than I can keep track of.' _Very good. Estella was not easily shocked_.

'Niphredil Baggins.'

'What? That skinny little vixen in ugly trousers? Why, she's younger than our Eowyn!'

'That's why you have to forgive her. She's only twenty-seven.'

'Really? Oh, dear. And she did that to you on purpose? Well, I never heard the like! And such an old man as you, you are over twice her age! Are you sure this is the truth you're telling me? What would she see in you?'

'She said it was 'because I am so handsome, and she was so lonely.''

'She did? That sounds peculiar, not the handsome part I mean, that's what they always say, but an innocent child saying she is 'lonely' in that way! Well she ought to be!'

'Niphredil Baggins is no innocent child.'

'I would imagine she isn't, not after a night with you!'

'I mean she wasn't that before it either. She has told me under strict confidence that she has certain problems with drinking and men, but she promised herself I would be the last of her mistakes. Believe me, waking next to one's cousin can be quite of a shock!'

'Poor little girl! And such a monster of a cousin as you, too! You know, you have looked terrible every morning after a party that I've ever seen you, and not a year less your age!'

'So you forgive her.'

'Of course I do. I take it it was her who taught you that athelas helps in a hangover? _That_ I will never forgive!'

'You know, Estella, I thought this was going to be the worst day of our marriage, but it isn't.'

'I haven't said I forgive _you_ yet.'

'You don't have to. The worst day was the one I have just described you, the morning after the wedding, much worse than the wedding itself!'

'I would imagine so, after you and I protesting to almost-cousins marrying, while pretty little Niphredil helped them all she could!'

'You don't think - she actually tried to teach me a lesson, in her own twisted way?'

'That we will never know.'

'So, now I'll have to make you forgive me. Would it help if I massaged your feet a bit?'

'It might... Merry darling, it just might, in a month or so!'

The second week of the new year, in lands where years are hardly numbered, at least not after any custom known to us.

Frodo and Sam were in a hard situation. They had entered an inn, been told they were children, and that they ought to go back home. When they tried to explain the innkeeper shouted at them angrily:

'I don't want your money when I know I'll have to answer for it to your parents when they find out you stole it from their savings! You can't be from too far, can you! I'd never forgive an innkeeper who helped my kids in a ridiculous attempt of escaping home! And none of that dwarf story sonny, you ain't got the beard for it!'

Having been thus turned out, and facing the dark windows of a midnight village, they returned to the road.

'It feels stupid camping so near a village, but I guess those villagers have never heard of hobbits if even the innkeeper hasn't.' Sam said.

'Yes, usually innkeepers are the first to know of any news from other lands.' Frodo agreed.

So they sought a sheltered place in a grove of trees between two fields.

'Shall we light a fire?' Sam asked.

'Well, why not? It's not like the landowner is coming out to complain at this time of the night!' Frodo said, and so they began gathering fallen branches.

Soon they had a fire going and they warmed the last of the fish Sam had stored in a curious fashion: on a particularly cold night, he had put the fish into a clear pond, and in the morning they were frozen all through and had remained so for a week, separable only by means of sawing or hacking with the knife. The last of them had already been melting on the top of his bag, but it was not spoiled so they could eat it safely. They also had plenty of other supplies bought from bigger villages where hobbits were known and sometimes even remembered.

Suddenly they heard movement on the road. Frodo was ready to kick the fire out, when he heard a woman's voice:

'Kids, are you out there? Dad thought it wasn't decent how Ghenny threw you out, on a cold night like this!'

'We are no kids but I think you mean us, ma'am.' Frodo stepped to the road. He saw the woman: a young girl in a simple skirt and a cloak wrapped around her shoulders.

'Whatever you are, would you like to sleep in my father's house? It's a lot warmer than out here. You can tell us what you are if not children, but we must go soon, I am cold because I have no shoes on.'

The offer was a generous one, more so because when she stepped to warm her toes at the fire, they saw her clothes were hardly more than rags. Her lack of shoes was probably due to the fact that she owned none. They knew enough of humans to know that only small children in summer and the poorest of the poor went without shoes.

Soon they were on the road back towards the village.

'What is your name? I'm Frodo Gardner, and this is Samkin Smallburrows.'

'Funny names you have! I'm Gisela, and my dad is called Therry. I had a mother, but she died giving birth to my brother. The baby died too. So it's only me and dad. My mother was called Girrie.'

Gisela pointed at a path that went away from the inn and the centre of the village. Soon they came to a house with a bent roof and boarded-up windows. A light showing through the cracks in the door was the only sign this was a home and not a barn.

'If you live here, how did you know what happened at the inn?' Frodo asked.

'My dad was there. He may be a bit drunk now, but you are safe, he isn't angry. Only sad.'

'You are very generous. We thank you, Miss Gisela.' Frodo bowed.

'You sure have nice manners!'

Gisela opened the door. There were a couple of beds on the floor, mere blankets upon old mattresses, a three-legged badly balanced table, and two simple chairs of a shape that hobbits would only tolerate in a kitchen or a cowhouse. But there was also a stove, and the boarded windows kept the warmth indoors. An old man lay on a bed, seemingly asleep. He woke up, however, while Gisela moved her bed to make room for their small guests' travel blankets.

'Oh, you found them. That's my girl. Hello, little ones. I'm Therry and this is my good Gisela.'

Introductions were repeated and the man listened to their story.

'Hobbits, you say. Ah well. I believe you, but if I tell my friends about you tomorrow, they will say I've been drinking too much and seeing imaginary little beardless dwarves in my house!'

'We are most grateful for your hospitality. Would you like to share our supper with us? We had just begun our supper when Gisela came.'

'Why, thank you. That would be nice, we had porridge for supper so it suits us fine. Gisela, is there any porridge left?'

'No, I've cleaned the kettle already.'

'Perhaps we could use the kettle to boil this fish? It is a bit little for four, so perhaps we should make a soup of it. We have potatoes and herbs, and even a couple of onions, and salt. My father is very punctual about always carrying some salt when one travels.' Frodo offered.

So soup it was. Gisela made it, as the stove was too high for the hobbits to use comfortably. From their bags they also took out nuts and dried fruit and bread. It seemed the right thing to do, to return these poor people their kindness and help them a bit. The supper was delicious and Sam made a point of complimenting Gisela on her cookery skills.

'I've done some kitchen work now and then, when someone has a party in the village.'

They settled to sleep, Gisela with her legs under the table, for the house was indeed small, but Frodo found sleep evading him. This place made him sad, the very poverty of these people and how little one meal helped them in the long run. He was certain they would deny any offers of money. Maybe he ought to place some coins under Gisela's mattress, so that she would find them when she moved it back where it had been.

His purse was in his pocket, and he slept in his clothes. Moving the coins in darkness without clinking them was hard, but finally he managed it. He heard everyone was fast asleep. He tiptoed to the sleeping woman and slid the coins under the part of her mattress that was beneath the table. And then he did the mistake. When he stood up, his head hit the table. And because the table had only three legs, it almost collapsed on Gisela. Frodo got it balanced at last, but not without waking the girl.

'What are you doing?'

'I - um - I stumbled against the table in the dark, and it fell, but it's standing again now.'

'What were you doing here?'

'I needed to go out, but I forgot which way the door was.' Frodo was surprised how easy the lie came.

'No, you didn't. I wasn't asleep, because I didn't trust you. And well that I didn't! I saw you bending at the foot of my bed. You reached out your hand! You were about to feel me up!'

Frodo was shocked by the girl's idea, and this caused him to stammer.

'N-no! I swear by my honour, I did not!'

'You tried to!'

'No. Please. Don't shout.'

'Oh, yes, let's not wake my father, huh? He wouldn't like his polite little guests at all after that, would he? Which one are you anyway? Frodo, isn't it? Well, let me tell you something! I don't fancy beardless dwarves at all, nor bearded ones for that matter, so I'm not going to obey your wishes! Father, wake up! Help!'

The old man woke slowly like a wintering bear, and almost as angry, too.

'What's the matter? A spark in your mattress? Something wrong with our guests?'

'Wrong indeed!' Gisela grabbed Frodo's arm violently and shouted:

'This one tried to take advantage of me! He told me not to wake you! He is disgusting!'

Samkin, a sound sleeper, woke to the shouts at last. He was the first one to light a candle, and saw the scene in its full dramatic ridicule: Frodo held by a frantic girl shouting her impossible accusations, and the bearded man slowly waking to them and getting angry.

'I swear that my friend would never do the thing you accuse him of. Did we not just this night tell you that the purpose of our journey is to help his lady-love?' he put in quickly.

'Of course you defend him! But perhaps your story is not true!' Gisela answered.

The man Therry lifted Frodo up by his hands and tossed him on his mattress like one tosses a disgusting insect into the fire. Then he went to the stove and picked up the knife Gisela had used to clean the fish. It still had scales on it.

'Nobody hurts my child! Nobody!'

Frodo, on the opposite side of the room than his own bed, bag and weapons, was quite helpless.

Sam suddenly had an idea. He extinguished the candle, in the hope that the darkness would protect his friend. It did, for a moment, until Gisela found a lantern. The moment was enough for Frodo to creep back to his belongings, the spear among them. It looked little more than a toy to humans, but the point was sharp steel. Gisela's lantern illuminated a new balance in things, as Sam held his bow and the arrow was aimed at her, while Frodo's spear held Therry at bay. He had already received a small wound, stumbling on the point accidentally in the darkness. If he had been furious as a bear before, now he was a wounded bear.

'So that is the way of it! You put steel against steel!'

'Don't even think about throwing the knife or your daughter gets this!' Sam yelled.

Frodo found a more sensible course of action.

'Gisela, look under your mattress. There is the true reason why I stumbled against the table.'

The girl obeyed, and found the three silver coins.

'I am no g'reshu! My virtue is not for sale!'

'No! You misunderstand me! That was just to pay for your kindness.'

'Nobody pays this much for plain shelter and beds on the floor. You are a liar.'

'Be sensible. He hasn't touched her. Take the silver, let us go. We will leave at once.' Unfortunately, the man interpreted Sam's common sense as a confession.

'No. My daughter is worth more than this... aren't you, Gisela? And perhaps he did touch you... before you were able to shout? Perhaps he pressed the pillow against your mouth? Tried to take by force what he could not have for fancy words nor for shiny coins? My Gisela would never admit such shame, so I shall never know. But what you have done will cost you all the silver you have.'

'Very well, if it is silver you want. Samkin keeps our money as he is the elder one. Samkin, how many silvers do we have left? And coppers, perhaps he wants those too?'

Sam understood the plot at once. His purse was the lighter one. Frodo Gardner, it seemed, had decided there was a limit to his kindness as well as their hosts'.

'We have seven. And twelve coppers. And, um, one of these Gondorian things called silver pennies, very small.'

'Drop it on the floor. The whole purse,' Therry ordered. Sam obeyed. Gisela picked it up the moment it hit the floor.

'Now, pack your things.'

When this was done, and it was done with one or the other of the hobbits pointing a weapon at the man all the time, they walked out before they would be thrown out.

Back on the road again, all sleep driven away from them and not wishing to stop too soon near the place of this dangerous encounter, Sam opened his mouth after an awkward silence.

'Well, we've been robbed, that's the truth of it, master Frodo.'

'I believe you are right, master Samkin. And I owe you seven silvers, twelve coppers, and a Gondorian silver penny.'

'No you don't. You owe me two silvers, seventeen coppers, and a silver penny.'

It took a moment for Frodo to figure this out. Then he burst out laughing.

'You cheated them, didn't you? But Gisela counted the coins!'

'I noticed when I counted them myself that it was hard to see the difference between northern coppers and old southern silver in such poor light. I thought they wouldn't believe the real amount was all we had. But the silver penny I do miss, it was my lucky coin.'

'I'll get you a golden one once we reach Gondor! But what happened to the rest of your money? I thought you really had seven silvers and some.'

'I hid it in different places in my bag.' Sam told him in a confidential whisper, although they were alone in the middle of a bare moorland, 'I'm sure we will meet many pickpockets. And thieves. I really think neither of them truly believed in the end you meant any harm, but they saw the opportunity to get some money.'

'It's good that I have you with me. I shall do the same with my money next time we stop. And pay you all but the silver penny, for those I have none. But I owe you much more. You saved my life when you put out the candle.'

'Oh, it was nothing. I would give my life for you, master Frodo.'

'It's me who should say that, you silly!' Frodo grinned, then he saw Sam had been serious.

'Why would you do that? I thought the master thing was a kind of joke.'

'For you, perhaps. For me, never. Master Frodo, I must confess you something. I have not been entirely truthful with you.'

'What about?'

'Promise you won't kill me for it, and I'll serve you the rest of my days.'

'Kill you? What is this? All right, I promise, I won't hurt you!'

'You may want to. It's about Niphredil Baggins.'

'You mean...'

'Yes. We did share a bed. But I spoke the truth as well: she said she was no virgin, and wasn't.'

'You are right. I do want to hurt you. I want you to feel that you have done wrong, even if I must beat it into your head. But I gave my word. And I honour yours. Besides, we are friends now. Call me what you wish. And never touch her again! That is the only command I shall give you, and you promised to serve me so you must obey it.'

'I will. Master Frodo, I will.'

They walked on, for although they had been tired, neither could quite calm down now.

About an hour later Frodo spoke again.

'Sam?'

'Yes?'

'What was it like? With her?'

'You really want to know?'

'I do.'

'It was the first time I ever was with a woman. Wonderful and absolutely horrible.'

'How so?'

'Because she would have taken anyone, and only chose me because I happened to be awake and rather charmed by her. And all of a sudden she spoke that name and I knew she didn't mean me.'

'What name?'

'Meldanya.'

Frodo stopped suddenly and clenched his hands around the spear.

'I'll get him. I'll kill him if he refuses to confess! Hear me! I will kill that elf. He made her behave so mad. Niphredil Baggins is not like that really.'

'I know she isn't. When I first met you and you were so angry for her honour, I knew there had to be more to her than walking away whistling and breaking our hearts. And I think our quest is a noble one. Beware, Legolas Greenleaf, we are out to get you!'

The companions shook hands and walked on, and still walked when the sun rose.


	17. Courtly Manners

Sixteen: Courtly Manners

The letter Legolas had written and sent got a reply three days later. The Queen would be pleased to meet her onetime maid of honour, and Gimli son of Glóin promised to remain in the city until he met the daughter of the Ringbearer.

Finally, on the twelfth day of the new year, Niphredil once more entered the city of Minas Anor, with Legolas. Firiel came with them as well, to meet her parents and perhaps even some royalty, if they would be so kind as to allow Niphredil to introduce her friend at the palace.

She absolutely insisted her parents must see her new noble friends, the elf-prince and the halfling princess in her shining armour. The brother and sister-in-law of Mistress Vanian were not healers but herb-merchants, selling spices and some medicines as well. On an impulse, Niphredil asked them if they had any pipe-weed.

'Sweet galenas? Why, of course we do, imported from somewhere in the far north specially for his majesty the King and a few others in the court.'

'Might I see it? I know something of the plant, and I would like to make sure his majesty receives nothing but the best quality.' Niphredil had never smoked a pipe nor felt any urge to, but his father still had in the garden of Underhill what was certainly the most western bed of 'Old Tobo' on Arda. Gandalf and Bilbo had been the originators of the idea, of course. She was shown into a storage room and given a barrel of the strong-smelling herb to inspect.

'The very best it is, 'Southern Star' by name in honour of her majesty the Queen, although I wonder if she really likes the smell of it. I will remember this when I mention your daughter at the court.' The merchant-couple beamed at her.

'You are full of surprises, Miss Baggins!' Firiel told her for a farewell.

'You have no idea. You may see me in stranger garb than mithril someday!' The hobbit girl grinned.

'What was that supposed to mean?' Legolas asked her, as they climbed the streets towards the Citadel.

'Why, anything! A knight's helm or a wizard's robes, for a start!'

'And then? The clothes of a farmer's wife or those of a princess?'

'Knowing me, it will be a beggar's rags more likely - or feathers, now and then!'

'You have too many friends to become a beggar!'

'Yes, but I was taken for one at the Gates of Buckland.'

'Really? How did you get though?'

'Well, actually I was taken for a ghost first, but that was over when I shot one quite real arrow to the guardhouse door, but I then made the mistake of bragging a relationship to both the Master and the Thain.'

'And these would be...'

'Why, Merry and Pippin of course.'

'No wonder they took to knighthood so easily! And both are your cousins?'

'Merry is a second cousin, Peregrin a third, but close relatives by Shire standards.'

'And high noblemen, by Shire standards. Did the guards believe you finally? The family resemblance is visible in your face.'

'Perhaps to you, who knew them young and have the clarity of elven memory to help you. No, but a sensible old guard-sergeant, or something like that, told the others they were being stupid. If I had a bow and could hit the exact centre of a round door that would barely be reached by a smaller bow, and yet had hit precisely that instead of someone flesh and blood, I was not very likely to be an enemy.'

At the Citadel they heard they were expected in the throne room. This was strange, for personal friends to be received like guests of state.

The herald on the door asked:

'I know thee, prince Legolas, but thy companion I do not recognize.'

'Announce her as Niphredil of Eresseä, Erniell-i-Pheriannath and elf-friend.'

The man did as he was told.

As they approached the throne, Niphredil whispered:

'Really, Legolas, you amaze me.'

'If they want courtly manners, courtly manners they shall have!'

The king sat on his throne, with his queen beside him. Gimli son of Glóin stood at the feet of the throne. He bowed at them but said nothing.

Aragorn son of Arathorn, King Elessar of Gondor, Arnor and Umbar, stood up.

_He stood up oh no this is not happening the king is not supposed to stand up _Niphredil's thoughts tangled in panic.

'We greet you as we would greet a daughter of our own blood, Niphredil Baggins.' He declared.

'I am unworthy of such honour, your majesty.' Niphredil curtsied deep.

'And yet we give it to you, for your departude from us was sudden and unexpected, and you were much missed.' He sat down. And then the Queen stood up and descended the steps and she knelt down and hugged Niphredil before the girl had time to curtsey again.

'Much missed indeed. And I was worried for you.'

'I never meant to cause you sorrow, your majesty!'

'I know you didn't.' Arwen Undomiel stood up and put her hands on Niphredil's shoulders.

'But sorrow is what you caused me, and not to me alone.' Her words were soft, but her eyes looked at Legolas.

'I am glad that you have returned and that you are well, Niphredil. We all are glad. I see the hidden pain that I saw when you said your mysterious farewell to me has departed from your eyes. May I introduce you Gimli son of Glóin, the master of Aglarond!' At the Queen's words, the dwarf stepped closer.

'At your service and your family's, Miss Baggins! May I add that I am glad not only to meet the child of my friend, but to see that with her at least one priceless treasure of the Baggins family has returned to Middle-Earth.' It took the dwarf some effort to take his eyes away from the mithril mail and towards Niphredil's face.

'Indeed. Not even I knew all your secrets, it seems!' The Queen said. She turned to Legolas again.

'Surely you knew, at least?'

'Your majesty, what makes you assume that I would know what Miss Baggins wears under her clothes?'

The Queen turned her face towards her husband; in her eyes a silent plead for release from such interrogation. Gimli seemed to have difficulties not to laugh. Niphredil blushed, not for the words but for the memories they brought to her mind. He had known. Of the mithril mail, and more, but had avoided the Queen's question to keep her honour - her long-lost honour - intact in all public record.

The King did release his wife from the torment. He addressed Niphredil:

'So you have taken up the name of elf-friend at last, the name you owned in the realm of your birth but wished not to be used while in our realm.'

'I have. When Prince Legolas gifted me with that name, I accepted it most gratefully.'

'Indeed?' The Queen whispered, but said no more.

'Of all races under Arien's light save that of the ents I have gathered friends to myself. Eodhelm of Rohan sped me on my way north, at the Field of Celebrant I met an orc who wished nothing but to see a mallorn tree before he died, which sight I granted him and his life after it, in Rivendell I befriended Neldoren of the Beeches, ever since arriving at Bree I have made friends with several of my own people, Elanor Gamgee one such, Meriadoc Brandybuck another, with several of their families. My latest acquaintance is a woman born of this city, Firiel student of Vanian student of Ioreth, of the House of Health, and now if master Gimli accepts my friendship I may also call a dwarf my friend.'

'A friend of Legolas is a friend of mine. But I would have liked to see the faces of the Galadhrim when you bought an orc to their borders!'

'Well, it helped that he remained some way from the borders, and this helped me even more.'

Niphredil bent down to rummage in her bag and took out the Phial of Galadriel.

It blazed brighter than ever before in her hand, as bright as it had been in her father's hand when he gifted her with it, bright enough to get the attention of various servants and soldiers in the throne-room, it even shone out into other rooms, but only the briefest of moments, then the light became a spark almost invisible.

'This happened in the Golden Wood as well, and more! She saw Valacirca in the Mirror. Your majesties.' A new voice spoke.

'Who said that?' Gimli asked, perplexed.

'Quetondo did. Their majesties know him, as does Legolas, but you have not met him. This is Quetondo, a jewel-spirit, ancient as the Silmarils, who shared my mother's imprisonment in Angband.'

'He is beautiful, my lady!'

'Did you hear that, Niphredil! In all the years I've lived, nobody ever called me beautiful!'

'I didn't mean to offend.' Gimli said.

'I think he is quite pleased. I'm never sure about his feelings, though - it is hard to understand the thoughts of a stone!'

'There, master dwarf might have much to teach you, Ohtarcë.' Quetondo sounded smug.

'You sound like you had fallen in love!'

'I may or I may have not. I am a stone, after all!'

'And you are male.'

'Am I? Who says so?'

'My mother always said...'

'I went along with her assumption, because it comforted her when she was imprisoned and helpless. I even chose to speak in a male voice for her sake.'

'You mean you have no gender?'

'I do. The same as yours.'

'Oh. I see._ I see_. Perhaps I had better borrow you to master Gimli for a while. He might teach me to understand you.'

'That sounds like a good idea. Then you can say you have made friends with a _stone_.'

Niphredil held Quetondo up to her face, looked at the moving shape inside the stone that had been genderless to her eyes until now, and noted it did, at least, appear to have long hair. She kissed the cold surface and handed Quetondo to his - her - new custodian. Gimli accepted her with more tenderness in his eyes that Niphredil had thought possible for a dwarf, and sat on the stairs of the throne to examine her.

'Is this true what she says about Valacirca?' The King asked.

'It is. I saw Valacirca in the mirror, and not above me at all.'

'Do you know what this means?'

'Well, my cousin Merry was the first to point it out to me. I did not realise the meaning before that. Yes, now I know. I wish to pledge my life, my sword, and my bow to the service of your majesty.'

'We accept your pledge. Will you set yourself under our command, so that we may send you where we wish?'

'As long as I live, I will serve you and your family and obey you. I will go where you send me, and stay where you place me. This I swear by my blood, by Arien's blood.'

'Then we shall make you a knight of Gondor, the first of Maiarin blood ever, not to mention the first woman ever. Kneel, Niphredil of Eresseä!'

He touched both her shoulders with the blade of Anduríl.

'Rise, Sir Niphredil!'

'Our first command is one of release: you are free to go where you wish in our realm until we call you to me. Do not leave the land of Gondor without our permission or that of the Queen.'

'I hear and I obey, Sire!'

'This is not all that Valacirca means, husband.' Queen Arwen spoke,

'The power of the Mirror was derived from the power of the ring Nenya. The ring has waned and passed west, so how can the Mirror awaken? It takes more than the Phial for that. The Phial is only a mirror itself, a mirror of Eärendil, a light in darkness. How has Sir Niphredil awakened the Mirror? And for a simple vision of knighthood?'

Gimli turned Quetondo so that she could see the Queen. She now said:

'That was all Niphredil saw, but others who looked into the water she had poured had visions of great splendour and clarity. No water poured by anyone else caused any visions before or after hers. The most powerful of all Rings got its power from Sauron himself. Sauron, who was of Maiarin blood. As was Niphredil's mother, Tinwen, whom Sauron could humiliate but not destroy. I have said this before and I will say this again: Sir Niphredil is the most powerful user of magic in the West of Middle-Earth. And the only one who can teach her anything is Radagast the Brown. Twice now she has shaped wings for herself and flown on them - which only Elwing has done before, by Ulmo's mercy, and which even Olórin did never attempt, riding Gwaihir instead.'

'So you are a wizard as well? And pledged to serve us? Now it's our turn to say that we are not worthy.' The King stated, his voice very serious indeed.

'You of all that rule any part of Middle-Earth, from Rivendell to Harad, from Eomer of Edoras to the master of Buckland who lives in an earthen hole, have been chosen to bring forth the Fourth age, the age of men, and you have been chosen by Mithrandir himself. For your worthiness your descendants will answer, but the choice was made before my birth and to fight against it would be foolish and useless. To you I am pledged, in peace and in war, in life and in death, my King!'

'What has she to do with the age of men?' The Queen asked.

To which the King replied:

'Sir Niphredil has everything that manhood is all about.'

'What did he mean by that?' Niphredil asked Legolas later, when a soldier led them to the armoury to find what she lacked of a knight's equipment.

'If I tell you the first thought that crossed my mind you will slap me in the face.'

'No, I'm a knight now, so I will challenge you to mortal combat. And I can guess what you thought. Might I suggest you try to behave yourself as we are far from 'that wild north of ours'?'

'I see Firiel has discussed her views with you, too.'

The soldier opened the door for them.

'His majesty has told me you need almost everything except a shirt of mail, which you already wear a better one than can be found anywhere in the realm. And I see you possess a bow as well. It is usually best to keep the bow one is used to, and especially such a fine specimen.'

'Indeed, man of Gondor, and if you knew bows as well as I do you would know the one she bears is the best your eyes shall ever behold.'

'Surely not better than yours, my lord Prince?'

'Indeed better than mine as much as she is better that I in the use of it. This knight is an archer.'

'Well, that is the least rare of her unique aspects, I'm sure. This armoury has clothed only one halfling, and he somewhat bigger than Sir Niphredil here. Of women not even the Shieldmaiden has received Gondorian gear. Do you have a sword, milady? A long knife may be enough.'

'My blade has survived the Fall of Gondolin. It will serve me.'

'Well, you shall need a helm at least. Your squire will bear your shield and protect you when you shoot. Riding is of course out of the question, you will lead archers on foot.'

Niphredil tried on the smallest helms and found one that pleased her.

'It will be just the right size when I gather my hair inside it.'

'Now, all you need is the appropriate clothing: breeches of black leather and a vest that shows the colours of your king that will go over your mail.'

'I'll have to cover this?'

'It is customary for knights to wear the symbol of their liege lord plainly visible upon their chest.'

'Even when on holiday? My liege gave me a command of release.'

'You have pledged your life, Sir Niphredil. If you do not wish to cover that fine armour, I suggest you have the front of it worked somehow to represent the white tree on a black background'.

'I will consider that. Until that time, I will wear an overcloth such as you described.'

'Very well. Let me take you to the seamstress who serves the knights.'

'It is a seamstress? And not a tailor?'

'Indeed, although she is as good as any tailor. Oh, and one thing more, Sir Niphredil.'

'Yes?'

'You might want to visit a shoemaker, too. Bare feet are a bit vulnerable on a battlefield.'

'My father walked barefoot to the heart of Mordor.'

'Legolas, what are you smiling about?'

'The thought that only a few days ago I offered to fight for your honour. If you have even a tenth of your archery skills with a sword, you will need no defender! But I do wonder what the other knights say when they hear about the newest addition to their ranks!'

'What do you think they will say, my good man?' Niphredil asked the soldier.

'Well, when I heard of a Sir Niphredil, I thought you were a man. Your name could be understood in this land to mean 'Pale Friend', not an inch more feminine than the name of Elendil. They will say nothing until they meet you, and then they will be too surprised to speak.'

They had come to the door of the seamstress.

'Madam, may we enter?' The soldier asked. He soon introduced them to the woman known as Wen-Wen.

'Well, I never thought I'd meet a woman in need of a knight's gear!'

'And I never thought I'd meet a woman tailoring to men!' Niphredil replied with precisely the same tone of respect.

'Don't call me a tailor, Sir, the real tailors won't like it.'

'If you do what I wish from you, Wen-Wen, I shall call you a tailor indeed and defend that title against anyone that tries to take it from you! For what I wish is no easy job: you must cover this fine armour in the colours of the King and yet reveal as much of it as you can.'

'No easy job, but it can be done if one knows where to cut.'

'Tell me what you plan as we proceed. I have sewed some myself. And you men, unless you leave this room very soon, you will feel quite embarrassed when we take the measurements...' She had no time to finish her sentence before the soldier opened the door and both men hurried through it.

'What was the elf doing here in the first place?'

'Well, he sometimes forgets his station. He was very helpful at the armoury, but I wonder if he has ever as much as held a needle!'

Wen-Wen laughed. She was a middle-aged woman, unmarried judging by the mode of her clothes, large of body but not overbearing of character.

'How come you are called Wen-Wen? That means woman-woman, doesn't it?'

'In Gondor, it means a nursemaid of children. A nanny, is that the word? There was once a nursemaid named Wen, who served the ancient kings, and she lived very old for a commoner, so that her name became to mean the job of caring for children. Of course, the children made it Wen-Wen. And when I was young I used to be a nanny to a noble family, so the name is a nickname really. Those who dislike me use it as an insult, but in fact I prefer woman-woman to my real name.'

Niphredil considered long whether to tell Wen-Wen that the original Wen had been her mother, but decided against it. In this company she felt no urge to boast her lineage. Instead she told how the soldier had mistaken her name for a male one. Again she heard the tailor's rich laughter.

'Why, you are a knight after my own heart, Sir Niphredil! What does your name mean then?'

'A flower that first bloomed when Lúthien was born. A flower that now grows only in Lothlórien. A humble, pale, flower, yet a pretty one. For my mother's love of Lúthien I was thus named.'


	18. Everything that Manhood is All About

Seventeen: Everything that Manhood is all about

The days of a week went by. Sir Niphredil's new clothes were finished, and she promised Wen-Wen a payment more valuable than any gold; to defend the woman's right to the profession of a tailor with all her might.

King Elessar had her introduced to the knights that ate at his table in the Citadel. They were shocked, when they saw such a small and unmistakeably female knight, instead of the tall, mysterious elf-friend they had expected, appear and heard her name announced by the heralds. Her outfit was one to cause comment all around the city: the overcloth was a thin, ceremonial-looking strip of cloth carefully decorated with the royal symbols, revealing most of the mithril armour. The armour was not only valuable but fine enough as to leave no question of her gender, and to complete the mix of reactions she caused she walked barefoot. She became soon known as the White Knight, for the armour and the name that implied paleness, more so since she was indeed pale-faced. 'Fair as the Moon', women whispered, and that was gallant of them for the Moon is male, and bears a bow. 'Sereg Anarien' men proclaimed her, Blood of the Sun, like Quetondo had so long ago far in the West, when she herself had still been a 'he' for everyone. Many remembered her as the Queen's Maid, but nobody could quite combine the image of a childlike favourite of Arwen Undomiel with the new knight who took many a challenge and won most of them, and all the archery ones, to prove her valour. So the former image, and with that also the image of a maiden in Legolas' arms, was forgotten, as everyone saw she was a true friend but nothing more to the elven prince.

_It goes better than we ever planned,_ Niphredil told herself.

With the help of Gimli they found Nár, nobody challenged him although Niphredil wished to, and Gimli sent the unsuspecting young dwarf to a secret mission studying the iron mines of southern Mordor, recently abandoned by slaves.

'That sure is the last place Frodo will look for him!' Niphredil said.

'And Mordor is no better than what he deserves.' Legolas agreed.

But in silent moments Legolas thought the last of his dreams was slipping away. For it had been he, not Frodo Gardner, who needed to vie for her attention by means such as challenging the dwarf.

So one February morning, he braced himself and abandoned the last of his pride. In short, he asked her a question, though not perhaps the most romantic one:

'You still have not chosen a squire, my friend?'

They stood on the battlement of Minas Anor, watching sunrise.

'No, and it troubles me. I do not wish to burden anyone who wouldn't like serving me, and I just can't make myself decide between the ones that have asked for the position. Most are older than I. Perhaps you can suggest someone?'

Legolas knelt.

'I offer myself.'

'Oh, please don't! That would be the waste of a perfect archer. Get up, people are looking at us!'

'I will get up if you order me as my master, Sir Niphredil.'

'I don't like this at all. What weird purpose is this supposed to serve?'

'We will go to war. I will protect you. Is that so weird?'

'Coming from you, yes! I thought you at least took me seriously as a knight.'

'This isn't serious enough?'

'No, this is something I might expect from a well-meaning troublesome lad like Frodo. Not you, who knows all the secrets of my heart.'

A spark of hope dawned in Legolas' eyes at this description of his rival.

'Not all of them, anymore. But once...'

'Don't you 'once' me! Get up, or I'll - I'll challenge you, Sir Legolas of the Fellowship!'

At this threat, which was a dangerous one to his emotions, he did indeed get up.

'And no talks of squiring after this, it isn't proper between equals.'

'I'm flattered to be your equal, Sir Niphredil the White.'

Later, Niphredil chose a young man named Angren as her squire. Their relationship was one of formal affection, as that of any knight with his squire. Naturally, he could not help her dress quite from the beginning, or serve as a bodyservant, but Niphredil had never needed help getting into the mail shirt and a pair of leather trousers.

Frodo Gardner and Samkin Smallburrows entered Gondor in the second week of March. The first marks of spring could already be seen, and their northern eyes could well notice these. They had tried to hasten through Rohan, lost their way once or twice, bought a map, been delayed by people asking for news and wishing to meet holbytlan, as they called them, halflings such as Meriadoc, who was known as the Last Knight of Theoden, and occasionally actually telling everything they knew until they realised that there would always be more questions and they would be delayed more than they wished. The realization that a new season was beginning, although not quite, was a heavy one. On Amon Dîn they heard the first genuine news of Legolas, after whom they repeatedly had inquired, getting replies such as 'Sometimes in Ithilien, but sometimes not.'

'Him? The elven prince? They say in the city she follows the White Knight like a shadow!'

'Who is the White Knight?' Frodo asked the soldier who had volunteered this information.

'You haven't heard? She is another one like yourselves, a halfling.'

'Excuse me, did you say _she_? What is her name?'

'Sir Niphredil.'

Frodo clenched his fists, and needed the steady hand of Sam on his shoulder to contain his mixed feelings.

'Why does Prince Legolas follow her?'

'Well, for that I've heard a dozen stories at least. Some say they were once in love. Some say that he owes his life to her although nobody knows why, unless for her father who was a hero. I even heard he offered to serve as her squire, but she chose another. A bit hard to believe, isn't it? Personally, I think it's because he can't figure out why she keeps beating him at every sort of archery contest you might imagine. Nobody else can figure that out either, Sir Niphredil carries a bow as big as herself and has beaten every archer of Gondor! Do not mention him I said this but I suppose he has offered a mighty price for that bow!'

'That would be no use to him. Niphredil has beaten every archer I know with their own bows!' Frodo said, eager to show his support for her.

'So you know her? I thought so, since she is of your people.'

'Where can Sir Niphredil be found?' Samkin asked, fearing his friend would give away too much.

'In Minas Anor. The king has given her a command of release to move freely in the realm, but she remains in the city. And many a challenger she has faced on the field of Cormallen, and won each fight, I hear. She bears an elven sword and a shining white mail shirt like no other knight has, nor the King himself for that matter! She has bought legends alive like none other Knight since the beginning of the Fourth Age.'

'I'm glad that you like her. I'm proud to know her.' And Frodo took his leave of the friendly soldier, Samkin at his heels.

It took them another week to get into the city. Once at the gates they asked for the White Knight, explaining they were her friends and countrymen from the north. They were sent to the Citadel and there led into a spacious room, a general audience chamber used by knights and noblemen who did not own one. There they saw Niphredil, seated on the windowsill in her full glory, with Legolas standing beside her. Samkin avoided her gaze.

'Niphredil Baggins, you never cease causing me surprises. How did you get here so long before me? I hope - did the wedding go all right? Merry didn't banish you from the Shire or something like that?' Frodo asked her.

'No, Eowyn and Marron are happily married. Merry and I parted as friends. Grandma Maggot was positively glowing the last time I saw her.'

'Well, you know what I wrote in my letter. You know what I'm here for.'

'That's all been dealt with. I and Legolas...'

Frodo interrupted her.

'I don't want to hear of it. You are innocent, you need confess me nothing.'

'Well, I want to hear who was your reliable source who told you what I'm innocent of?'

'Yourself. You spoke his name in dreams, and were overheard.'

'Oh. Well, I'm a knight now, and can defend my own honour. I have dealt with the matter in a way that I find satisfactory.' She glanced at Legolas, who nodded. These gestures were like the bite of a snake to Frodo Gardner.

'You think I came all this way to heard polished words from your mouth!'

'As I see it, you came all this way thinking you had left me behind in the Shire.'

'Legolas Greenleaf, I want to speak to you in private.' Frodo's tone was a demanding one.

Niphredil saw now that he had changed: lost some weight, travel-worn, but more: he had reached his manhood. She walked gracefully into a side room, Samkin following her, hoping the earth would swallow him before this stranger, this White Knight of Gondor, turned and showed him the eyes he had first known in quite another context.

'Elf. I know what you did to her. She may have forgiven you or find your present behaviour amusing, but I will never forgive you what you did to her. What you turned her into. She was broken, she was mad, and it was us in the Shire that had to get her back together. To teach her love. Understand?' Frodo stared at Legolas as menacingly as he could at one twice his height.

'I understand. I was worried for her when she was gone. I missed her. I loved her.'

'You may have spoken the words of love, but you never knew true love! If you had, you wouldn't have let sent her away!'

'I did not send her away. She chose to leave.'

'Of course, after the way you treated her!'

'The way I treated her? Let me remind you it was she who cheated on me!'

Frodo was speechless. At last he gathered his wits.

'You lie!'

'Ask her instead of eavesdropping to dreams!'

'I'm no eavesdropper!'

'Sure, you have inherited every other peculiar trait of your father's but that one?'

'I'll ask her,' Frodo said, to change the topic before it went to personal insults, for he knew he could never look his sister in the eyes if he now said the worst he thought about Legolas.

Niphredil was talking very softly to Samkin, who knelt at her feet. As the door opened, he wiped his eyes and slowly got up. _I will not even ask what this is about, _Legolas told himself.

'Niphredil, he says that you cheated on him!'

Frodo sounded like a child telling his mother about a nasty brother.

'And what did you say to him?' She asked, the very question mothers ask.

'Everything I came here to say.'

'Oh, Frodo! I had no idea you thought it was he. It wasn't him that I did wrong with, it was another, and I did betray my love to him.'

'Your - love?'

'My love. Now I see it - it was Samkin here who told you, only all he knew was a name he did not know, and another I explained.'

'Which names would these be?' Legolas asked.

'The ones I called out in my dreams. I forgot all about that incident, but the whole guardhouse heard me! And the words were, according to Samkin's memory, Laiqualassë Meldanya.'

'I've told you that your native Quenya will get you into difficulties someday!'

'So who was it really, whom you thought I meant in my letter?' Frodo inquired.

'Why must you know? I told you I have dealt with him already. I sent him to Mordor! If you wish to challenge him, you must challenge me first, to learn his name! Will you challenge the White Knight, Frodo Gardner?'

'I will not. I am no knight, only a gardener.'

Legolas suddenly felt something like compassion for the young hobbit.

'The occupation of a Gardener is a noble one. Did not Galadriel herself gift your father with a box of earth and a mallorn seed? Did he not rebuild the Shire as I have restored Ithilien? Call me a Gardener as well, and call me your friend if you can.'

'But why, Legolas? If you have done her no wrong, why do you follow her like a shadow?'

'I've often wondered that myself, now that you mention it. Ithilien is not healed yet.' Niphredil echoed the question.

'Why, Frodo Gardner, have you come all this way to say a few words for her honour?'

'She knows it well enough. But I see I must say it, so there: I love her.'

'Well, hear me then: so do I.'

Once again they glared at each other, Legolas near despair yet unwilling to let go of his pride, Frodo angry once more, although now like at a rival, not a true enemy.

Niphredil was the one to speak before either of them found words.

'Hear _me!_ Legolas, is this true? Why haven't you mentioned it before?'

'I did, the first morning after you returned to me.'

'You did? Well, I did not notice it. You should use the words you mean, not talk around them, for I have not the mind of an elf.'

'Point taken. I thought you were already in love with him, the way you talked about him.'

'But why didn't you just ask me? All these ridiculous schemes of yours, the squire-offer the worst, instead of simply asking me?'

'You are right. I treated you like an elf. Well, are you in love with Frodo Gardner?'

'I feel really terrible right now. Anything I say is going to hurt one of you.'

'If you say nothing, that will hurt us more.' Frodo put in.

'You are right. No, Frodo, I am not in love with you. Legolas, I am not in love with you either. Samkin, quit staring or your eyes will fall out!' And with these words she walked from the room, turning suddenly at her heels in the doorway and declaring:

'I am in love with Valacircä and the path of War!'

'Who is Valacircä?' Frodo asked Legolas.

'A constellation. The Sickle of the Valar, the Wrath of the Valar, that was put in the north to defy Morgoth. A constellation she saw in the Mirror of Galadriel. In the Mirror, but not above.'

'I see. Well, if she goes to Mordor or anyplace like that, I will follow her!' Frodo declared.

'And so will I,' said Legolas.

'And I!' Samkin shouted fiercely, only to get a curious look from Legolas:

'Who are you anyway?'

'Um. Well. I met her at the guardhouse.'

'I see.' Legolas' voice was icy.

'He is my friend,' Frodo put in quickly,

'And I think Niphredil has already forgiven him so we ought to, as well.'

So they did. But later, when he got him alone, Legolas asked Samkin a question that was quite beneath his elven dignity.

He got the same answer Frodo had received on the road, word to word.

For Master Smallburrows was taking no sides.


	19. Yes, Milady Commander!

Eighteen: Yes, Milady Commander!

War had brewed in Khand slowly, but now there was no question whether it would begin, or when. The first blow had been struck already. Slavery had long been part of the society ruled by kings who styled themselves emperors of Khand. Khandish slaves were only a little below servants in class, but foreigners, especially the people of enemy nations, were treated badly and they had no possibility of being released as free citizens. When Mordor had fallen, the Easterlings had been quiet, but now the emperor had thought the west had forgotten his part in the War of the Ring. And he had seen the lands of southern Mordor that were without government, inhabited by a poor and weak people of masterless slaves, and he wanted to be their master. So he had summoned his swordmasters and his commanders, and set about gathering a new army, preparing to seize Mordor before Gondor noticed a thing. Of course, King Elessar knew. He had the Palantir. He sent messengers to all corners of his realms, and to Edoras. Once more he would ride beside his friend Eomer.

But no successful army is combined of riders alone. Infantry is needed, as are archers. There were several units of archers who would serve him – the men of Morthond would be responsible for the 'rains' of arrows. Some infantry units were equipped with catapults and spear slings, new weapons that used the basic principle of a bow to wreck greater destruction. But the king also wanted a special unit, combined of skilled archers with longbows, a sharpshooter unit. Men who would aim at enemy leaders and archers, and protect their own leaders from similar attacks. And he knew who was the one to command such a unit.

But she wasn't as pleased as he had expected.

'Your majesty, I have never led as much as a herd of cows! I have enough trouble with one well-behaving squire. And this is my first war. You know Legolas has more experience.'

'That is why we have made him your second-in-command.'

'Oh, no! I wish you hadn't – I can't stand one more 'yes-sir' from him.'

'We thought he was your friend.'

'I thought he was, too. But apparently he finds it easier to be formal with me, in the present situation.'

'And what is the present situation?'

'That I am a knight. And not a woman at all. Your majesty.'

'Is that what he thinks, and what you disagree with?'

'No, that is what I am and what he cannot accept. Talk with him. I wish I could. But I cannot.'

Before he had talked with Niphredil, Aragorn had suspected Legolas would react mildly, if at all, to the fact that he wouldn't be an archery commander like he had been in all their previous wars. Instead, the elf Aragorn had always thought a reserved and calm person grinned like a young lad.

'What is so funny about this?'

'In a way, I get to be her squire after all.'

'You mean that rumour was true? Why would you want to?'

'Well, mostly for the pleasure of serving her.'

'But she doesn't like being served.'

'I know. But if that is the only way I can be near her, then I will.'

'You used to be her friend.'

'And it was painful. I have no wish to share her secrets, until her secrets concern me like they used to.'

'Oh. I see. You love her. You really did love her and you still do! You were always so silent about it, I thought it was nothing serious. Niphredil certainly had no idea how serious _you_ were, did she?'

'No. Not until last spring, when some of her secrets came to remind her of their existence. And it really wasn't as I had imagined it – how many times I had envisioned the romantic scene, and I ended up shouting to young Frodo and not even looking at her when I told I loved Niphredil. No wonder she ended up choosing neither of us and war instead.'

Aragorn put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

'Legolas. As far as I know, you have no experience of women. I mean other than your family. Niphredil isn't an elf, although she speaks better Quenyan than _you_ do. And she isn't an ordinary girl either. She wouldn't care how and when you said what you said, as long as you said it. You won't get anywhere if you force your company on her. Be the friend, and bear the pain, for it would lighten her burden. She is afraid of leadership, and she cannot bear the loneliness it brings. You will be the only friend she has in the entire army. And she told me she simply could not stand one more yes-sir from your mouth.'

'Oh. I have made a mistake.'

'And I am giving you an opportunity to correct it.'

Frodo Gardner and Samkin Smallburrows were practising on Samkin's bow. Frodo had never hunted, and although his aim was good he found it hard to estimate the effect of even a slight wind. Just as he had shot one more total miss, not even near the target, he heard the voices of the two people he would least like to witness his poor skills.

'…and regardless of rank, the unit will be divided in two on the grounds of skill alone. The ones who are still learning or who will never learn a good aim…' Niphredil was saying.

'…will be made squires, shielbearers, and arrowpickers. They won't like it, you know.' Legolas finished the thought.

Frodo turned. The two stood right behind him, looking at Samkin who was trying to find Frodo's arrow in a bush.

Niphredil continued the discussion.

'Well, nobody is forced to join. I don't like the elite reputation my troop is getting, but it does have some uses. I'll take all who pass the test and still have enough volunteers for the drudgery-work. Hello, Frodo. Isn't that bow a bit too small for you?'

'Small! I can barely manage it.'

'Bigger bows have heavier arrows, and heavier arrows slice the wind.' Niphredil took her own bow and one of her green arrows.

'Try it, Frodo – I know you're shorter than me, but try anyway.' Frodo obeyed, drawing the string as far as his strength reached. It strained him painfully, and he knew he couldn't hold it long, but he was not going to disappoint Niphredil. She noticed, naturally. She stepped behind Frodo and took hold of the bow, drawing it wider so that Frodo needed to use less of his strength. Niphredil was so close he could feel her warm body behind her, and her heartbeat – steady and calm, prepared to hold the bow with as little effort as a statue of iron would use, no matter how long. Frodo's own heart was racing and he knew not whether it was exhaustion or emotion.

'Now, aim!'

Again, Frodo obeyed, and together they sent the arrow speeding. It did slice the wind, and hit the target, but not the middle circles.

'Not bad. You'll need to have a bow done to your measurements. I know several craftsmen, all skilled.'

Samkin brought the green arrow.

'I didn't find the other one. Good shot, Frodo!'

Frodo glared at him. The innocent compliment would tell the others that all his previous tries had been worse.

Samkin stepped on the distance mark and shot all his arrows, one by one. Each hit the three smallest circles in the target, at a standard practice distance for young men.

'Very good, Samkin.' Niphredil commented, 'The bow must be yours and made for you.'

'It is. My hunting bow. I've used it for years.'

'I think you could take the tests with that bow. If you want to, that is. I'm recruiting volunteers for the sharpshooter unit, and if you pas the test, you can join. Become bowman in the army of Gondor in the upcoming war.'

'Really? Can Frodo come too?'

'If he passes the tests.'

'What do you mean? He came all this way because of you, and you'll treat him like any Gondorian farmer.'

'I've always thought I don't mistreat farmers, or gardeners. I never asked him to come. I won't even tell him to join the army. And before you ask, it wasn't me who appointed prince Legolas second-in-command. His majesty the King did.'

'I'll never pass the tests. May I bear Samkin's shield for him, then? If he passes. I heard you talking. I won't be left behind.' Frodo composed his dignity.

'All right.' Niphredil smiled.

'Hey, wait a minute! Don't I get a say in this?' Samkin objected.

'No, you don't. It's the commander's decision.' Legolas told him. 'Understood?'

'Yes, sir! Yes, commander.' Samkin saluted them both.


	20. Marsh Lights

Nineteen: Marsh Lights

Autumn came before the army was ready to march. They took the road around the mountains, not wishing to pass through Mordor. The kings Elessar and Eomer led the troops on horseback. Among the common riders was one Eodhelm of East-Emnet. Master Gimli brought a small group of dwarven warriors. And Sir Niphredil marched towards her first war with the red cloak of a commander heavy on her shoulders. Frodo and Samkin were also heading for not only their first war, but their first battle as well.

They camped one night near an evil-smelling stream. Niphredil followed it, showing no signs of tiredness despite a long day on the road. And Legolas followed her. The stream came from a marsh. Niphredil stood fixed in one place, staring hard at the lifeless ponds and rotting plants. Slowly, the sun set somewhere behind her. Small flames danced on the fetid waters. White flames, ghost flames, the flames of the Dead Marshes. Legolas had seen enough.

'Careful, Niphredil. This is an evil place.'

'I know. My father told me.' She didn't move and there was no surprise in her voice; _perhaps she was so used to him now she naturally assumed he would always follow her? Should he be proud of such trust or worried for being taken for granted?_

'A power drew me here. I am about to end it. Look!' She pointed at a flame that was dimmer than the others. A red flame.

Then the night got peculiar. Niphredil started taking off her clothes.

'What are you doing?' Legolas shouted.

'I'm trying to keep my clothes clean, that's all.'

'Dropping them on this mud is going to help somehow?'

'So hold them!' With that, she handed him the voluminous red cloak. Then her armour and overcoat, and finally even her breeches. Legolas closed his eyes at that moment, but had to open them at the sound he soon heard.

A splash. Niphredil had dived into the poisonous water, right under the red flame. At least that was where the ripples were; there was no sight of the girl herself. Legolas wondered if he dared dive after her – _she would be naked. And she would be very angry with him disturbing whatever she was doing. Besides, he was afraid whatever lurked under the water would destroy him He had to admit Niphredil was of stronger make._

After some painfully long minutes she surfaced. Or her hand did, clutching something in a tight fist. The red light curled around it maliciously. Legolas reached for the hand and pulled Niphredil up. The water was so dirty she was covered in slime all over. It smelt horribly. Her hair was so full of it it looked like the decomposing vegetation in the water.

_But she was the woman he loved. Gasping the air in despair, shuddering with a coldness from beyond graves. She needed him now. _Legolas wrapped her in the red cloak.

'Now will you explain what this is all about?' He asked, surprised by the sternness of his own words.

'Sorry. There is something I must do first.' Legolas remained at his kneeling position as Niphredil stood up. Her fist was still clenched. Something glowed inside it, so bright it made her flesh glow red. She started speaking in a language unknown to Legolas, yet he understood each word.

'Of the Nine, only one, I know

Has returned to ash somehow.

Hear me now, O Maker of man

as I call you through Aman!

Hear me as I here now stand

Hear me by my father's hand!

Hear me in my mother's name

Hear me, end now this fell flame!

Shatter, stone, and iron, rust!

Burn in fire as your Master must!

Take your kindred and begone!

Destroyed long are the First, the One!'

The light in her hand dimmed out. She opened the fist, revealing a ring of iron with a red stone. Then all shape fell from it, turning it into dust. A wind blew the dust from her hand, scattering it on the water. As it touched the surface, darkness covered everything. Legolas realised the white flames had all gone out. Then the clouds opened and the stars shone through. Niphredil turned to him, smiling triumphantly.

'All right, now you can have the explanation. How much did you understand of the spell?'

'Everything and nothing. Was that ring…'

'One of the Nine. Yes.'

'But the Nazguls perished in Mordor.'

'Yes, but in death, this one returned where he belongs. This place was once the plains of Dagorlad, and these ghosts wear the faces of the fallen of a glorious battle. The man with the iron ring was a commander of the dark Numenoreans. He fell, but Sauron's magic restored him a life as a wraith.'

'How do you know this?'

'The ring told me. It called to me, but it had little real power. It couldn't overcome my will. It had, however, sustained the ghost spirits that made this place their abode. I ended it by calling on the power of one greater than myself. Iluvatar doesn't often meddle in mortal affairs, but he does listen to his children. One day these marshes shall be drained, and beautiful trees will grow here. I will not be there to see it, nor will you. It is the unmaker's burden, to see every place at its worst.'

Legolas did not entirely believe her. Iluvatar _never_ meddled in mortal affairs if the legends were to be trusted. It took a mighty fire indeed to unmake even one of the lesser Great Rings of Power. But Niphredil was Tinwen's daughter, kin to Arien. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was enough fire in her.

Unaware of his thoughts, Niphredil grinned suddenly.

'I have an idea! There was a clear stream on the other side of the camp. I'd really like to wash the grime off myself and my cloak.'

'The camp is large, and it is already midnight.'

'All the better, nobody will see me like this.'

'Am I nobody?' Legolas took hold of her shoulder and stared right into her eyes.

_Perhaps he was. He knew no magic. His presence or absence seemed not to affect her._

'Of course you aren't! And I know I don't deserve you.'

'You have me, however. Do you know that?'

Niphredil noticed how very near his face was to hers. His eyes burned with a strange intensity. Niphredil found it hard to look at him, she who looked straight at the sun without blinking. She closed her eyes.

That got her a long kiss.

'Oh my! You never… I mean… Legolas, that was the sweetest kiss I ever had. But it must have tasted like mud to you. And now I've got your clothes in the slime too.'

'Niphredil. Look at me. I love you. That should be simple. Do you love me?'

'I wish I knew. Perhaps I'm not ready to love anyone just yet.'

'I see. Well, at least you are long overdue a bath. You really wouldn't like that slime to get dried in your hair.'

'All right. Come with me.'

It would be cool to end the story with a hot, sensual bath scene. But the story doesn't really end here, and they really aren't up to that kind of thing at the moment. Just a quick dip in a chilly autumn stream. Perhaps with him washing her hair. No kisses. Well, not many…


End file.
